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PLAYS 

BY 

ANTON    TCHEKOFF 

8SC0ND  SEBIKS 


PLAYS 


BY 

ANTON  TCHEKOFF 

SECOND  8EEIES 

ON  THE  HIGH  ROAD  :  THE 
PROPOSAL  :  THE  WEDDING  : 
THE  BEAR  :  A  TRAGEDIAN 
IN  SPITE  OF  HIMSELF  :  THE 
ANNIVERSARY  :  THE  THREE 
SISTERS  :  THE  CHERRY 
ORCHARD 

THANHLATED   WITH    AN    INTHODrCTION    ВТ 

JULIUS   WEST 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Maiie  and  Frinitd  in  Great  Brilatn 
iy  Turnlull  й'  Shears,  Edmhurgh 


CONTENTS 


(Tfiealre  AV's 
Libicry 

Рв     . 

till 


PiO.4 

Introduction 

1 

On  the  High  Road         .... 

9 

The  Proposal          .         .         .         ,         . 

.       39 

The  Wedding 

59 

The  Bear        

79 

A  Tragedian  in  Spite  of  Himself 

99 

The  Anniversary 

109 

The  Three  Sisters          .... 

129 

The  Cherry  Orchard     .         ,         .         .         . 

211 

INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 

The  last  few  years  have  seen  a  large  and  generally  un- 
systematic mass  of  translations  from  the  Russian  flung 
at  the  heads  and  hearts  of  English  readers.  The  ready 
acceptance  of  Chekhov  has  been  one  of  the  few  successful 
features  of  this  irresponsible  output.  He  has  been  wel- 
comed by  British  critics  with  something  like  affection. 
Mr.  Bernard  Shaw  has  several  times  remarked  :  "  Every 
time  I  see  a  play  by  Chekhov,  I  want  to  chuck  all  my  own 
stuff  into  the  fire."  Others,  having  no  such  valuable 
property  to  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  Chekhov,  have  not 
hesitated  to  place  him  side  by  side  with  Ibsen,  and  the 
other  established  institutions  of  the  new  theatre.  For 
these  reasons  it  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to  chronicle  the 
fact  that,  by  way  of  contrast  with  the  casual  treatment  nor- 
mally handed  out  to  Russian  authors,  the  publishers  are 
issuing  the  complete  dramatic  works  of  this  author.  In 
1912  they  brought  out  a  volume  containing  four  Chekhov 
plays,  translated  by  Marian  Fell.  All  the  dramatic  works 
not  included  in  her  volume  are  to  be  found  in  the  present 
one.  With  the  exception  of  Chekhov's  masterpiece,  "  The 
Cherry  Orchard "  (translated  by  the  late  Mr.  George 
Calderon  in  1912),  none  of  these  plays  have  been  previously 
published  in  book  form  in  England  or  America. 

It  is  not  the  business  of  a  translator  to  attempt  to  outdo 
all  others  in  singing  the  praises  of  his  raw  material.  This 
is  a  dangerous  process  and  may  well  lead,  as  it  led  Mr. 

3 


4  INTRODUCTION 

Calderon,  to  drawing  the  reader's  attention  to  points  of 
beauty  not  to  be  found  in  the  original.  A  few  biblio- 
graphical details  are  equally  necessary  and  permissible, 
and  the  elementary  principles  of  Chekhov  criticism  will 
also  be  found  useful. 

The  very  existence  of  "  The  High  Koad  "  (1884),  pro- 
bably the  earliest  of  its  author's  plays,  will  be  unsuspected 
by  English  readers.  During  Chekhov's  lifetime  it  was  a 
sort  of  family  legend,  after  his  death  it  became  a  family 
mystery.  A  copy  was  finally  discovered  only  last  year 
in  the  Censor's  office,  yielded  up,  and  published.  It  had 
been  sent  in  in  1885  under  the  nom-de-plume  "  A.  Chek- 
honte,"  and  it  had  failed  to  pass.  The  Censor  of  the  time 
being  had  scrawled  his  opinion  on  the  manuscript,  "  a 
depressing  and  dirty  piece — cannot  be  licensed."  The 
name  of  the  gentleman  who  held  this  view — Kaiser  von 
Kugelgen — gives  another  reason  for  the  educated  Russian's 
low  opinion  of  German-sounding  institutions.  Baron  von 
Tuzenbach,  the  satisfactory  person  in  "  The  Three  Sisters," 
it  will  be  noted,  finds  it  as  well,  while  he  is  trying  to  secure 
the  favours  of  Irina,  to  declare  that  his  German  ancestry 
is  fairly  remote.  This  is  by  way  of  parenthesis.  "  The 
High  Road,"  found  after  thirty  years,  is  a  most  interesting 
document  to  the  lover  of  Chekhov.  Every  play  he  wrote 
in  later  years  was  either  a  one-act  farce  or  a  four-act 
drama.* 

In  "  The  High  Road  "  we  see,  in  an  embryonic  form, 
the  whole  later  method  of  the  plays — the  deliberate  con- 
trast between  two  strong  characters  (Bortsov  and  Merik 
in  this  case),  the  careful  individualization  of  each  person 

*  "The  Swan  Song"  may  occur  as  an  exception.  This,  how- 
ever, is  more  of  a  Shakespeare  recitation  than  anytliing  else,  and 
JO  neither  here  nor  there. 


INTRODUCTION  5 

in  a  faii'ly  large  group  by  way  of  an  introduction  to  the 
main  theme,  the  concealment  of  the  catastrophe,  germ- 
wise,  in  the  actual  character  of  the  characters,  and  the 
creation  of  a  distinctive  group-atmosphere.  It  need 
scarcely  be  stated  that  "  The  High  Road "  is  not  a 
*'  dirty "  piece  according  to  Russian  or  to  German 
standards  ;  Chekhov  was  incapable  of  writing  a  dirty  play 
or  story.  For  the  rest,  this  piece  differs  from  the  others 
in  its  presentation,  not  of  Chekhov's  favourite  middle- 
classes,  but  of  the  moujik,  nourishing,  in  a  particularly 
stuffy  atmosphere,  an  intense  mysticism  and  an  equally 
intense  thirst  for  vodka. 

"  The  Proposal "  (1889)  and  "  The  Bear  "  (1890)  may 
be  taken  as  good  examples  of  the  sort  of  humour  admired 
by  the  average  Russian.  The  latter  play,  in  another 
translation,  was  put  on  as  a  curtain-raiser  to  a  cinemato- 
graph entertainment  at  a  London  theatre  in  1914,  and 
had  quite  a  pleasant  reception  from  a  thoroughly  Philistine 
audience.  The  humour  is  very  nearly  of  the  variety  most 
popular  over  here,  the  psychology  is  a  shade  subtler.  The 
Russian  novelist  or  dramatist  takes  to  psychology  as  some 
of  his  fellow-countrymen  take  to  drink ;  in  doing  this  he 
achieves  fame  by  showing  us  what  we  already  know,  and 
at  the  same  time  he  kills  his  own  creative  power.  Chekhov 
just  escaped  the  tragedy  of  suicide  by  introspection,  and 
was  only  enabled  to  do  this  by  the  possession  of  a  sense 
of  humour.  That  is  why  we  should  not  regard  "  The 
Proposal,"  "The  Bear,"  "The  Wedding,"  or  "The 
Anniversary  "  as  the  work  of  a  merely  humorous  young 
man,  but  as  the  saving  graces  which  made  perfect  "  The 
Cherry  Orchard." 

"  The  Three  Sisters  "  (1901)  is  said  to  act  better  than 
any  other  of  Chekhov's  plays,   and  should  surprise  an 


6  INTRODUCTION 

English    audience    exceedingly.     It    and    "  The    Cherry 
Orchard  "  are  the  tragedies  of  doing  nothing.     The  three 
sisters  have  only  one  desire  in  the  world,  to  go  to  Moscow 
and  live  there.     There  is  no  reason  on  earth,  economic, 
sentimental,  or  other,  why  they  should  not  pack  their 
bags  and  take  the  next  train  to  Moscow.     But  they  will 
not  do  it.     They  cannot  do  it.     And  we  know  perfectly 
well  that  if  they  were  transplanted  thither  niiraculously, 
they  would  be  extremely  unhappy  as  soon  as  ever  the 
excitement  of  the  miracle  had  worn  off.     In  the  other  play 
Mme.  Ranevsky  can  be  saved  from  ruin  if  she  will  only 
consent  to  a  perfectly  simple  step — the  sale  of  an  estate. 
She  cannot  do  this,  is  ruined,  and  thrown  out  into  the 
unsympathetic  world.     Chekhov  is  the  dramatist,  not  of 
action,  but  of  inaction.     The  tragedy  of  inaction  is  as 
overwhelming,  when  we  understand  it,  as  the  tragedy  of 
an  Othello,  or  a  Lear,  crushed  by  the  wickedness  of  others. 
The  former  is  being  enacted  daily,  but  we  do  not  stage 
it,  we  do  not  know  how.     But  who  shall  deny  that  the 
base  of  almost  all  human  unhappiness  is  just  this  inaction, 
manifesting  itself  in  slovenliness  of  thought  and  execution, 
education,  and  ideal  ? 

The  Russian,  painfully  conscious  of  his  own  weaknesses, 
has  accepted  this  point  of  view,  and  regards  "  The  Cherry 
Orchard "  as  its  master-study  in  dramatic  form.  They 
speak  of  the  palpitating  hush  which  fell  upon  the  audience 
of  the  Moscow  Art  Theatre  after  the  first  fall  of  the 
curtain  at  the  first  performance — a  hush  so  intense  as  to 
make  Chekhov's  friends  undergo  the  initial  emotions  of 
assisting  at  a  vast  theatrical  failure.  But  the  silence  was 
almost  a  sob,  to  be  followed,  when  overcome,  by  an  epic 
applause.     And,  a  few  months  later,  Chekhov  died. 

This  volume  and  that  of  Marian  Fell — with  which  it  is 


INTRODUCTION  7 

uniform — contain  all  the  dramatic  works  of  Chekhov.  It 
has  been  considered  not  worth  while  to  translate  a  few 
fragments  published  posthumously,  or  a  monologue  "  On 
the  Evils  of  Tobacco  " — a  half  humorous  lecture  by  "  the 
husband  of  his  wife,"  which  begins  "  Ladies,  and  in  some 
respects,  gentlemen,"  as  this  is  hardly  dramatic  work. 
There  is  also  a  very  short  skit  on  the  efficiency  of  provincial 
municipal  fire  brigades,  which  was  obviously  not  intended 
for  the  stage  and  has  therefore  been  omitted. 

Lastly,  the  scheme  of  transliteration  employed  has  been 
that,  generally  speaking,  recommended  by  the  Liverpool 
School  of  Kussian  Studies.  This  is  distinctly  the  best  of 
those  in  the  field,  but  as  it  would  compel  one,  e.g.,  to  write 
a  popular  female  name,  "  Marya,"  I  have  not  treated  it 
with  absolute  respect.  For  the  sake  of  uniformity  with 
Miss  Fell's  volume,  the  author's  name  is  spelt  TchekoS 
on  the  title-page  and  cover. 

J.  W. 


RUSSIAN   WEIGHTS   AND    MEASURES   AND 

MONEY  EMPLOYED  IN  THE  PLAYS, 

WITH  ENGLISH  EQUIVALENTS 

1  verst  =  3500  feet  =  f  mile  (almost) 
1  arshin         =   28  inches 
1  dessiatin    =  2-7  acres 
1  copeck        =   Id 
1  rouble  =  100  copecks  =  25.  Id. 


ON   THE   HIGH   ROAD 

A    DRAMATIC    STUDY 


CHARACTERS 

TiHON  EvSTiGNEYEV,  the  proprietor  of  a  inn  on  the  main 

road 

Semyon  Sergeyevitch  Bortsov,  a  ruined  landoxiner 

Maria  Egorovna,  his  wife 

Savva,  an  aged  pilgrim 

Nazarovna'4  .,    . 

_,  \  women  pilgnms 

Efimovna   J 

Fedya,  a  labourer 

Egor  Merik,  a  tramp 

KusMA,  a  driver 

Postman 

BoRTSov's  Wife's  Coachman 

Pilgrims,  Cattle-dealers,  etc. 

The  action  takes  place  in  one  of  the  provinces 
of  Southern  Russia 


ON  THE   HIGH   ROAD 

The  scene  is  laid  in  Tihon's  bar.  On  the  right  is  the  bar- 
counter  and  shelves  v/ith  bottles.  At  the  back  is  a  door 
leading  out  of  the  house.  Over  it,  on  the  outside,  hangs 
a  dirty  red  lantern.  The  floor  and  the  forms,  which 
stand  against  the  wall,  are  closely  occupied  by  pilgrims 
and  passers-by.  Many  of  them,  for  lack  of  space,  are 
sleeping  as  they  sit.  It  is  late  at  night.  As  the  curtain 
rises  thunder  is  heard,  and  lightning  is  seen  through  the 
door. 

TiHON  is  behind  the  counter.  Fedya  is  half-lying  in  a  heap 
on  one  of  the  forms,  and  is  quietly  playing  on  a  con- 
certina. Next  to  him  is  Bortsov,  wearing  a  shabby 
summer  overcoat.  Savva,  Nazarovna,  and  Efimovna 
are  stretched  out  on  the  floor  by  the  benches. 

Efimovna.  [To  Nazarovna]  Give  the  old  man  a  nudge 
dear  !     Can't  get  any  answer  out  of  him. 

Nazarovna.  [Lifting  the  corner  of  a  cloth  covering  off 
Savva's /ace]  Are  you  alive  or  are  you  dead,  you  holy 
man  ? 

Savva.  Why  should  I  be  dead  1  I'm  alive,  mother  ! 
[Raises  himself  on  his  elbow]  Cover  up  my  feet,  there's  a 
saint !  That's  it.  A  bit  more  on  the  right  one.  That's 
it,  mother.     God  be  good  to  us. 

Nazarovna.  [Wrapping  up  Sawa's  feet]  Sleep,  little 
father. 

11 


12  ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD 

Savva.  Wliat  sleep  can  I  have  ?  If  only  I  had  the 
patience  to  endure  this  pain,  mother  ;  sleep's  quite  another 
matter.  Asinnerdoesn't  deserve  to  be  given  rest.  What's 
that  noise,  pilgrim-woman  ? 

Nazarovna.  God  is  sending  a  storm.  The  wind  is 
wailing,  and  the  rain  is  pouring  down,  pouring  down.  All 
down  the  roof  and  into  the  windows  like  dried  peas.  Do 
you  hear  ?  The  windows  of  heaven  are  opened  .  .  . 
[Thunder]  Holy,  holy,  holy  .  .  . 

Fedya.  And  it  roars  and  thunders,  and  rages,  and 
there's  no  end  to  it !  Hoooo  .  .  .  it's  like  the  noise  of  a 
forest.  .  .  .  Hoooo.  .  .  .  The  wind  is  wailing  like  a 
dog.  .  .  .  [Shrinking  back]  It's  cold  !  My  clothes  are  wet, 
it's  all  coming  in  through  the  open  door  .  .  .  you  might 
put  me  through  a  wringer.  .  .  .  [Plays  softly]  My  con- 
certina's damp,  and  so  there's  no  music  for  you,  my 
Orthodox  brethren,  or  else  I'd  give  you  such  a  concert, 
my  word !  Something  marvellous !  You  can  have  a 
quadrille,  or  a  polka,  if  you  like,  or  some  Russian  dance 
for  two.  ...  I  can  do  them  all.  In  the  town,  where  I 
was  an  attendant  at  the  Grand  Hotel,  I  couldn't  make  any 
money,  but  I  did  wonders  on  my  concertina.  And  I  can 
play  the  guitar. 

A  Voice  from  the  Corner.  A  silly  speech  from  a  silly 
fool. 

Fedya.  I  can  hear  another  of  them.  [Pause. 

Nazarovna.  [To  Savva]  If  you'd  only  lie  where  it  was 
warm  now,  old  man,  and  warm  your  feet.  [Pause]  Old 
man !  Man  of  God !  [Shakes  Savva]  Are  you  going  to 
die? 

Fedya.  You  ought  to  drink  a  little  vodka,  grandfather. 
Drink,  and  it'll  burn,  burn  in  your  stomach,  and  warm  up 
your  heart.     Drink,  do  ! 


ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD  13 

Nazarovna.  Don't  swank,  young  man !  Perhaps  the 
old  man  is  giving  back  his  soul  to  God,  or  repenting  for  his 
sins,  and  you  talk  like  that,  and  play  your  concertina.  .  .  . 
Put  it  down  !    You've  no  shame  ! 

Fedya.  And  what  are  you  sticking  to  him  for  ?  He 
can't  do  anything  and  you  .  .  .  with  your  old  women's 
talk  ...  He  can't  say  a  word  in  reply,  and  you're  glad, 
and  happy  because  he's  listening  to  your  nonsense.  .  .  . 
You  go  on  sleeping,  grandfather,  never  mind  her  !  Let  her 
talk,  don't  you  take  any  notice  of  her.  A  woman's  tongue 
is  the  devil's  broom — it  will  sweep  the  good  man  and  the 
clever  man  both  out  of  the  house.  Don't  you  mind.  .  .  . 
[Waves  his  hands]  But  it's  thin  you  are,  brother  of  mine  ! 
Terrible  !  Like  a  dead  skeleton  !  No  life  in  you  !  Are 
you  really  dying  1 

Savva.  Why  should  I  die  1  Save  me,  0  Lord,  from 
dying  in  vain.  .  .  .  I'll  suSer  a  little,  and  then  get  up  with 
God's  help.  .  .  .  The  Mother  of  God  won't  let  me  die  in  a 
strange  land.  .  .  .  I'll  die  at  home. 

Fedya.  Are  you  from  far  off  ? 

Savva.  From  Vologda.  The  town  itself.  ...  I  live 
there. 

Fedya.  And  where  is  this  Vologda  ? 

TinoN.  The  other  side  of  Moscow.  .  .  . 

Fedya.  Well,  well,  well.  .  .  .  You  have  come  a  long 
way,  old  man  !     On  foot  ? 

Savva.  On  foot,  young  man.  I've  been  to  Tihon  of  the 
Don,  and  I'm  going  to  the  Holy  Hills.*  .  .  .  From  there, 
ii  God  wills  it,  to  Odessa.  .  .  .  They  say  you  can  get  to 
Jerusalem  cheap  from  there,  for  twenty-one  roubles,  they 
say.  .  .  . 

*  On  the  Donetz,  south-east  of  Kharkov ;  a  monastery  contain- 
ing a  miraculous  ikon. 


14  ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD 

Fedya.  And  have  you  been  to  Moscow  ! 

Savva.  Rather !     Five  times.  .  .  . 

Fedya.  Is  it  a  good  town  ?  [Smokes]  Well-standing  ? 

Savva.  There  are  many  holy  places  there,  young 
man.  .  .  .  Where  there  are  many  holy  places  it's  always 
a  good  town.  .  .  . 

BoRTSOV.  [Goes  up  to  the  counter,  to  Tihon]  Once  more, 
please  !     For  the  sake  of  Christ,  give  it  to  me  ! 

Fedya.  The  chief  thing  about  a  town  is  that  it  should 
be  clean.  If  it's  dusty,  it  must  be  watered  ;  if  it's  dirty, 
it  must  be  cleaned.  There  ought  to  be  big  houses  ...  a 
theatre  .  .  .  police  .  .  .  cabs,  which  .  .  .  I've  lived  in  a 
town  myself,  I  understand. 

BoRTSOv.  Just  a  little  glass.     I'll  pay  you  for  it  later. 

Tihon.  That's  enough  now. 

BoRTSOV.  I  ask  you  !     Do  be  kind  to  me  ! 

Tihon.  Get  away ! 

BoRTSOV.  You  don't  understand  me.  .  .  .  Understand 
me,  you  fool,  if  there's  a  drop  of  brain  in  your  peasant's 
wooden  head,  that  it  isn't  I  who  am  asking  you,  but  my 
inside,  using  the  words  you  understand,  that's  what's 
asking  !     My  illness  is  what's  asking  !     Understand  ! 

Tihon.  We  don't  understand  anything.  .  ,  .  Get  back  ! 

BoRTSOV.  Because  if  I  don't  have  a  drink  at  once,  just 
you  understand  this,  if  I  don't  satisfy  my  needs,  I  may 
commit  some  crime.  God  only  knows  what  I  might  do ! 
In  the  time  you've  kept  this  place,  you  rascal,  haven't  you 
seen  a  lot  of  drunkards,  and  haven't  you  yet  got  to  under- 
stand what  they're  like  ?  They're  diseased  !  You  can  do 
anything  you  like  to  them,  but  you  must  give  them  vodka  ! 
Well,  now,  I  implore  you  !  Please  !  I  humbly  ask  you  1 
God  only  knows  how  humbly  ! 

Tihon.  You  can  have  the  vodka  if  you  pay  for  it. 


ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD  15 

BoBTSOV.  Where  am  I  to  get  the  money  ?  I've  drunk 
it  all !  Down  to  the  ground !  What  can  I  give  you  ? 
I've  only  got  this  coat,  but  I  can't  give  you  that.  I've 
nothing  on  underneath.  .  .  .  Would  you  like  my  cap  ? 

[Takes  it  off  and  gives  it  to  Tihon 

TiHON.  {Looks  it  over]  Hm.  .  .  .  There  are  all  sorts 
of  caps.  ...  It  might  be  a  sieve  from  the  holes  in 
it.  .  .  . 

Fedya.  [Laughs']  A  gentleman's  cap  !  You've  got  to 
take  it  off  in  front  of  the  mam'selles.  How  do  you  do, 
good-bye  !     How  are  you  ? 

Tihon.  [Returns  the  cap  to  Bortsov]  I  wouldn't  give 
anything  for  it.     It's  muck. 

Bortsov.  If  you  don't  like  it,  then  let  me  owe  you  for 
the  drink  !  I'll  bring  in  your  five  copecks  on  my  way  back 
from  town.  You  can  take  it  and  choke  yourself  with  it 
then !  Choke  yourself  !  I  hope  it  sticks  in  your  throat ! 
[Coughs]  I  hate  you ! 

Tihon.  [Banging  the  bar-counter  with  his  fist]  Why  do 
you  keep  on  like  that  ?  What  a  man  !  What  are  you 
here  for,  you  swindler  ? 

Bortsov.  I  want  a  drink  !  It's  not  I,  it's  my  disease  ! 
Understand  that ! 

Tihon.  Don't  you  make  me  lose  my  temper,  or  you'll 
soon  find  yourself  outside  ! 

Bortsov.  What  am  I  to  do  ?  [Retires  from  the  bar- 
counter]  What  am  I  to  do  ?  [Is  thoughtful. 

Efimovna.  It's  the  devil  tormenting  you.  Don't  you 
mind  him,  sir.  The  damned  one  keeps  whispering, "  Drink  ! 
Drink  !  "  And  you  answer  him,  "  I  shan't  drink  !  I 
shan't  drink  !  "     He'll  go  then. 

Fedya.  It's  drumming  in  his  head.  .  .  .  His  stomach's 
leading  him  on  !  [Laughs]  Your  honour's  a  happy  man. 


16  о  N    Т  II  E    II I  G  Н    R  о  л  D 

Lie  down  and  go  to  sleep  !  What's  the  use  of  standing  like 
a  scarecrow  in  the  middle  of  the  inn  !  This  isn't  an 
orchard  ! 

BoRTSOv.  [Angrily]  Shut  up  !  Nobody  spoke  to  you, 
you  donkey. 

Fedya.  Go  on,  go  on  !  We've  seen  the  like  of  you 
before !  There's  a  lot  like  you  tramping  the  high  road  ! 
As  to  being  a  donkey,  you  wait  till  I've  given  you  a  clout 
on  the  ear  and  you'll  howl  worse  than  the  wind.  Donkey 
yourself !     Fool !  [Pause]  Scum  ! 

Nazarovna.  The  old  mau  may  be  saying  a  prayer,  or 
giving  up  his  soul  to  God,  and  here  are  these  unclean  ones 
wrangling  with  one  another  and  saying  all  sorts  of  .  .  . 
Have  shame  on  yourselves  ! 

Fedya.  Here,  you  cabbage-stalk,  you  keep  quiet,  even 
if  you  are  in  a  public-house.  Just  you  behave  like  every- 
body else. 

BoRTSOv.  What  am  I  to  do  ?  What  will  become  of  me  ? 
How  can  I  make  him  understand  ?  What  else  can  I  say 
to  him  1  [To  Tihon]  The  blood's  boiling  in  my  chest ! 
Uncle  Tihon  !  [Weeps]  Uncle  Tihon  ! 

Savva.  [Groans]  I've  got  shooting-pains  in  my  leg,  like 
bullets  of  fire.  .  .  .  Little  mother,  pilgrim. 

Efimovna.  What  is  it,  little  father  ? 

Savva.  Who's  that  crying  ? 

Efimovna.  The  gentleman. 

Savva.  Ask  him  to  shed  a  tear  for  me,  that  I  might  die 
in  Vologda.     Tearful  prayers  are  heard. 

BoRTSOV.  I'm  not  praying,  grandfather !  These  aren't 
tears !  Just  juice !  My  soul  is  crushed,  and  the  juice  is 
running.  [Sits  by  Savva]  Juice  !  But  you  wouldn't  under- 
stand !  You,  with  your  darkened  brain,  wouldn't  under- 
stand.    You  people  are  all  in  the  dark ! 


ON    THE    HIGH     ROAD  17 

Savva.  Where  will  you  find  those  who  live  in  the  light  ? 

BoRTSOv.  They  do  exist,  grandfather.  .  .  .  They  would 
understand ! 

Savva.  Yes,  yes,  dear  friend.  .  .  .  The  saints  lived  in 
the  light.  .  .  .  They  understood  all  our  griefs.  .  .  .  You 
needn't  even  tell  them  .  .  .  and  they'll  understand.  .  .  * 
Just  by  looking  at  your  eyes.  .  .  .  And  then  you'll  have 
such  peace,  as  if  you  were  never  in  grief  at  all — it  will  all 
go! 

Fedya.  And  have  you  ever  seen  any  saints  ? 

Savva.  It  has  happened,  young  man.  .  .  .  There  are 
many  of  all  sorts  on  this  earth.  Sinners,  and  servants  of 
God. 

BoRTSOV.  I  don't  understand  all  this.  .  .  .  [Gets  up 
quickly]  What's  the  use  of  talking  when  you  don't  under- 
stand, and  what  sort  of  a  brain  have  I  now  ?  I've  only  an 
instinct,  a  thirst !  [Goes  quickly  to  the  counter]  Tihon,  take 
my  coat !    Understand  ?  [Tries  to  take  it  off]  My  coat  .  .  . 

TiHON.  And  what  is  there  under  your  coat  ?  [Looks 
under  it]  Your  naked  body  ?     Don't  take  it  off,  I  shan't 
have  it.  .  .  .  I'm  not  going  to  burden  my  soul  with  a  sin. 
Enter  Merik. 

BoRTSOV.  Very  well,  I'll  take  the  sin  on  myself !  Do 
you  agree  ? 

Merik.  [In  silence  takes  off  his  outer  cloak  and  remains 
in  a  sleeveless  jacket.  He  carries  an  axe  in  his  belt]  A 
vagrant  may  sweat  where  a  bear  will  freeze.  I  am  hot. 
[Puts  his  axe  on  the  floor  and  takes  off  his  jacket]  You  get 
rid  of  a  pailful  of  sweat  while  you  drag  one  leg  out  of  the 
mud.  And  while  you  are  dragging  it  out,  the  other  one 
goes  farther  in. 

Efimovna.  Yes,  that's  true  ...  is  the  rain  stopping, 
dear  ? 


18  ON    Til  E    HIGH    ROAD 

Mi'RiK.  [Glancing  at  Efimovna]  I  don't  talk  to  old 
women.  [A  pause. 

BoRTSOV.  [To  TinoN]  I'll  take  the  sin  on  myself.  Do 
you  hear  me  or  don't  you  ? 

TiHON.  I  don't  want  to  hear  you,  get  away  I 

Merik.  It's  as  dark  as  if  the  sky  was  painted  with  pitch' 
You  can't  see  your  own  nose.  And  the  rain  beats  into 
your  face  like  a  snowstorm  ! 

[Picks  up  his  clothes  and  axe. 

Fedya.  It's  a  good  thing  for  the  likes  of  us  thievcF* 
When  the  cat's  away  the  mice  will  play. 

Merik.  Who  says  that  ? 

Fedya.  Look  and  see  .  .  .  before  you  forget. 

Merik.  We'll  make  a  note  of  it.  .  .  .  [Goes  up  to  Tihon] 
How  do  you  do,  you  with  the  large  face  !  Don't  you 
remember  me. 

Tihon.  If  I'm  to  remember  every  one  of  you  drunkards 
that  walks  the  high  road,  I  reckon  I'd  need  ten  holes  in 
my  forehead. 

Merik.  Just  look  at  me.  ...  [A  pause. 

Tihon.  Oh,  yes,  I  remember.  I  knew  you  by  your  eyes  ! 
[Gives  him  his  hand]  Audrey  Polikarpov  ? 

Merik.  I  used  to  be  Audrey  Polikarpov,  but  now  I  am 
Egor  Merik. 

Tihon.  Why's  that  ? 

Merik.  I  call  myself  after  whatever  passport  God  gives 
me.  I've  been  Merik  for  two  months.  [Thimder]  Errr.  .  .  . 
Go  on-  thundering,  I'm  not  afraid  !  [Lools  round]  Any 
police  here  ? 

TiiiON.  What  are  you  talking  about,  making  mountains 
out  of  mole-hills  ?  .  .  .  The  people  here  are  all  right.  .  .  . 
The  police  are  fast  asleep  in  their  feather  beds  now.  .  .  . 
[Loudly]  Orthodox  brothers,  mind  your  pockets  and  your 


ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD  19 

clothes,  or  you'll  have  cause  to  regret  it.  The  man's  a 
rascal !     He'll  rob  you  ! 

Merik.  They  can  look  out  for  their  money,  but  as  to 
their  clothes — I  shan't  touch  them.  I've  nowhere  to  take 
them. 

TiEON.  Where's  the  devil  taking  you  to  ! 

Merik.  To  Kuban. 

TiHON.  My  word  ! 

Fedya.  To  Kuban  ?  Eeally  ?  [Sitting  up]  It's  a  fine 
place.  You  wouldn't  see  such  a  country,  brother,  if  you 
were  to  fall  asleep  and  dream  for  three  years.  They  say 
the  birds  there,  and  the  beasts  are — my  God  !  The  grass 
grows  all  the  year  round,  the  people  are  good,  and  they've 
so  much  land  they  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it !  The 
authorities,  they  say  ...  a  soldier  was  telling  me  the 
other  day  .  .  .  give  a  hundred  dessiatins  a  head.  There's 
happiness,  God  strike  me  ! 

Merik.  Happiness.  .  .  .  Happiness  goes  behind  you.  .  .  . 
You  don't  see  it.  It's  as  near  as  your  elbow  is,  but  you 
can't  bite  it.  It's  all  silly.  .  .  .  [Looking  round  at  the 
benches  and  the  fcople]  Like  a  lot  of  prisoners.  ...  A 
poor  lot. 

Efimovna.  [To  Merik]  What  great,  angry  eyes ! 
There's  an  enemy  in  you,  young  man.  .  .  .  Don't  you 
look  at  us  ! 

Merik.  Yes,  you're  a  poor  lot  here. 

Efimovna.  Turn  away !  [Nudges  Savva]  Savva, 
darling,  a  wicked  man  is  looking  at  us.  He'll  do  ua 
harm,  dear.  [To  Merik]  Turn  away,  I  tell  you,  уо-д 
snake ! 

Savva.  He  won't  touch  us,  mother,  he  won't  touch 
us.  .  .  .  God  won't  let  him. 

Merik.  All     right,     Orthodox     brothers !  [Shrugs    his 


20  ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD 

shoulders]  Be    quiet !     You    aren't    asleep,    you    bandy- 
legged fools  I     Why  don't  you  say  something  ? 

Efimovna.  Take  your  great  eyes  away  !  Take  away 
that  devil's  own  pride  ! 

Merik.  Be  quiet,  you  crooked  old  woman  !  I  didn't 
come  with  the  devil's  pride,  but  with  kind  words,  wishing 
to  honour  your  bitter  lot  I  You're  huddled  together  like 
flies  because  of  the  cold — I'd  be  sorry  for  you,  speak  kindly 
to  you,  pity  your  poverty,  and  here  you  go  grumbling 
away !  There's  no  need  for  that !  [Goes  up  to  Fedya] 
Where  are  you  from  ? 

Fedya.  I  live  in  these  parts.  I  work  at  the  Khamon- 
yevsky  brickworks. 

Merik.  Get  up. 

Fedya.  [Raising  himself]  Well  ? 

Merik.  Get  up,  right  up.     I'm  going  to  lie  down  here. 

Fedya.  What's  that.  ...  It  isn't  your  place,  is  it  ? 

Merik.  Yes,  mine.    Go  and  lie  on  the  ground  I 

Fedya.  You  get  out  of  this,  you  tramp.  I'm  not  afraid 
of  you. 

Merik.  You're  very  quick  with  your  tongue.  .  .  .  Get 
up,  and  don't  talk  about  it  I    You'll  be  sorry  for  it,  you  silly. 

TiHON.  [To  Fedya]  Don't  contradict  him,  young  man. 
Never  mind. 

Fedya.  What  right  have  you  ?  Y^'ou  stick  out  your 
fishy  eyes  and  think  I'm  afraid  !  [Picks  up  his  belongings 
and  stretches  himself  out  on  the  ground]  You  devil ! 

[Lies  down  and  covers  himself  all  over. 

Merik.  [Stretchiiig  himself  out  on  the  bench]  I  don't 
expect  you've  ever  seen  a  devil  or  you  wouldn't  call  me 
one.  Devils  aren't  like  that.  [Lies  down,  putting  his  axe 
next  to  him]  Lie  down,  little  brother  axe  ...  let  me  cover 
you. 


ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD  21 

TiHON.  Where  did  you  get  the  axe  from  ? 

Merik.  Stole  it.  .  .  .  Stole  it,  and  now  I've  got  to  fus3 
over  it  like  a  child  with  a  new  toy ;  I  don't  like  to  throw 
it  away,  and  I've  nowhere  to  put  it.  Like  a  beastly 
wife.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  [Covering  himself  over]  Devils  aren't 
like  that,  brother. 

Fedya.  [Uncovering  his  head]  What  are  they  like  ? 

Merik.  Like  steam,  like  air.  .  .  .  Just  blow  into  the  air. 
[Blows]  They're  like  that,  you  can't  see  them. 

A  Voice  from  the  Corner.  You  can  see  them  if  you 
sit  under  a  harrow. 

Merik.  I've  tried,  but  I  didn't  see  any.  .  .  .  Old 
women's  tales,  and  silly  old  men's,  too.  .  .  .  You  won't 
see  a  devil  or  a  ghost  or  a  corpse.  .  .  .  Our  eyes  weren't 
made  so  that  we  could  see  everything.  .  .  .  When  I  was 
a  boy,  I  used  to  walk  in  the  woods  at  night  on  purpose  to 
see  the  demon  of  the  woods.  .  .  .  I'd  shout  and  shout, 
and  there  might  be  some  spirit,  I'd  call  for  the  demon  of 
the  woods  and  not  blink  my  eyes  :  I'd  see  all  sorts  of  little 
things  moving  about,  but  no  demon.  I  used  to  go  and 
walk  about  churchyards  at  night,  I  wanted  to  see  the 
ghosts — but  the  old  women  lie.  I  saw  all  sorts  of  animals, 
but  anything  awful — not  a  sign.     Our  eyes  weren't  .  .  . 

The  Voice  from  the  Corner.  Never  mind,  it  does 
happen  that  you  do  see.  ...  In  our  village  a  man  was 
gutting  a  wild  boar  ...  he  was  separating  the  tripe 
when  .  .  .  something  jumped  out  at  him  ! 

Savva.  [Raising  himself]  Little  children,  don't  talk 
about  these  unclean  things  !     It's  a  sin,  dears  ! 

Merik.  Aaa  .  .  .  greybeard !  You  skeleton  !  [Laughs] 
You  needn't  go  to  the  churchyard  to  see  ghosts,  when  they 
get  up  from  under  the  floor  to  give  advice  to  their  rela- 
tions. .  .  .  A  sin  !  .  .  .  Don't  you  teach  people  your  silly 


22  ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD 

notions  !  You're  an  ignorant  lot  of  people,  living  in  dark- 
ness. .  .  .  [Lights  his  pipe]  My  father  was  a  peasant  and 
used  to  be  fond  of  teaching  people.  One  night  he  stole  a 
sack  of  apples  from  the  village  priest,  and  he  brings  them 
along  and  tells  us,  "  Look,  children,  mind  you  don't  eat 
any  apples  before  Easter,  it's  a  sin."  You're  like  that.  .  .  . 
You  don't  know  what  a  devil  is,  but  you  go  calling  people 
devils.  .  .  .  Take  this  crooked  old  woman,  for  instance. 
[Points  to  Efimovna]  She  sees  an  enemy  in  me,  but  in  her 
time,  for  some  woman's  nonsense  or  other,  she's  given  her 
soul  to  the  devil  five  times. 

Efimovna.  Hoo,  hoo,  hoo.  .  .  .  Gracious  heavens ! 
[Covers  her  face]  Little  Savva  ! 

TinoN.  What  are  you  frightening  them  for  ?  A  great 
pleasure !  [The  door  slams  in  the  wind]  Lord  Jesus.  .  . 
The  wind,  the  wind  ! 

Merik.  [Stretching  himself]  Eh,  to  show  my  strength ! 
[The  door  slams  again]  If  I  could  only  measure  myself 
against  the  wind  !  Shall  I  tear  the  door  down,  or  suppose 
I  tear  up  the  inn  by  the  roots  !  [Gets  up  and  lies  down 
again]  How  dull ! 

Nazarovna.  You'd  better  pray,  you  heathen !  Why 
are  you  so  restless  ? 

Efimovna.  Don't  speak  to  him,  leave  him  alone  !  He's 
looking  at  us  again.  [To  Merik]  Don't  look  at  us,  evil 
man  !  Your  eyes  are  like  the  eyes  of  a  devil  before  cock- 
crow ! 

Savva.  Let  him  look,  pilgrims  1  You  pray,  and  his 
eyes  won't  do  you  any  harm. 

BoRTSov.  No,  I  can't.  It's  too  much  for  my  strength  ! 
[Goes  up  to  the  counter]  Listen,  Tihon,  I  ask  you  for  the 
last  time.  .  .  .  Just  half  a  glass  ! 

TiHON.  [Shalces  his  head]  The  money  ! 


ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD  23 

BoRTSOv.  My  God,  haven't  I  told  you !  I've  drunk  it 
all !  Where  am  I  to  get  it  ?  And  you  won't  go  broke 
even  if  you  do  let  me  have  a  drop  of  vodka  on  tick.  A 
glass  of  it  only  costs  you  two  copecks,  and  it  will  save  me 
from  suSering  !  I  am  suffering  !  Understand !  I'm  in 
misery,  I'm  suffering  ! 

TiHON.  Go  and  tell  that  to  someone  else,  not  to  me.  .  .  . 
Go  and  ask  the  Orthodox,  perhaps  they'll  give  you  some 
for  Christ's  sake,  if  they  feel  like  it,  but  I'll  only  give 
bread  for  Christ's  sake. 

BoRTSOV.  You  can  rob  those  wretches  yourself,  I 
shan't.  ...  I  won't  do  it !  I  won't !  Understand  ? 
[Hits  the  bar-counter  with  his  fist]  I  won't  [A  pause.] 
Hm  .  .  .  just  wait.  .  .  .  [Turns  to  the  pilgrim  women] 
It's  an  idea,  all  the  same,  Orthodox  ones  !  Spare  five 
copecks  !     My  inside  asks  for  it.     I'm  ill ! 

Fedya.  Oh,  you  swindler,  with  your  "  spare  five 
copecks."    Won't  you  have  some  water  ? 

BoRTSOv.  How  I  am  degrading  myself  I  I  don't  want 
it !     I  don't  want  anything  !     I  was  joking  ! 

Merik.  You  won't  get  it  out  of  him,  sir.  .  .  .  He's  a 
famous  skinflint.  .  .  .  Wait,  I've  got  a  five-copeck  piece 
somewhere.  .  .  .  We'll  have  a  glass  between  us — half  each 
[Searches  in  his  pocJcets]  The  devil  .  .  .  it's  lost  some- 
where. .  .  .  Thought  I  heard  it  tinkling  just  now  in  my 
pocket.  .  .  .  No,  no,  it  isn't  there,  brother,  it's  your 
luck  !  [A  pause. 

BoRTSOV.  But  if  I  can't  drink,  I'll  commit  a  crime  or 
I'll  kiU  myself.  .  .  .  What  shall  I  do,  my  God  !  [Looks 
through  the  door]  Shall  I  go  out,  then  ?  Out  into  this 
darkness,  wherever  my  feet  take  me.  .  .  . 

Merik.  Why  don't  you  give  him  a  sermon,  you  pilgrims  ? 
And  you,  Tihon,  why  don't  you  drive  him  out  ?     He  hasn't 


24  ONTHK    HIGH    ROAD 

paid  you  for  his  night's  accommodation.  Chuck  him  out ! 
Eh,  the  people  are  cruel  nowadays.  There's  no  gentleness 
or  kindness  in  them.  ...  A  savage  people  !  A  man  is 
drowning  and  they  shout  to  him  :  "  Hurry  up  and  drown, 
we've  got  no  time  to  look  at  you,  we've  got  to  go  to  work." 
As  to  throwing  him  я  rope — there's  no  need  to  worry  about 
that.  ...  A  rope  would  cost  money. 

Savva.  Don't  talk,  kind  man  ! 

Mkrik.  Quiet,  old  wolf  !  You're  a  savage  race  !  Herods ! 
Sellers  of  your  souls !  [To  Tihon]  Come  here,  take  oS 
my  boots  !     Look  sharp  now  ! 

TinoN.  Eh,  he's  let  himself  go  !  [Laughs]  Awful,  isn't  it. 

Merik.  Go  on,  do  as  you're  told  !  Quick,  now  !  [Pause] 
Do  you  hear  me,  or  don't  you  ?  Am  I  talking  to  you  or 
the  wall  ?  [Stands  up. 

Tihon.  Well  .  .  .  give  over. 

Merik.  I  want  you,  you  fleecer,  to  take  the  boots  ofE 
me,  a  poor  tramp. 

Tihon.  Well,  well  .  .  .  don't  get  excited.  Here,  have 
a  glass.  .  .  .  Have  a  drink,  now  ! 

Merik.  People,  what  do  I  want  ?  Do  I  want  him  to 
stand  me  vodka,  or  to  take  ofi  my  boots  ?  Didn't  I  say 
it  properly  ?  [To  Tihon]  Didn't  you  hear  me  rightly  1 
I'll  wait  a  moment,  perhaps  you'll  hear  me  then. 

There  is  excitement  among  the  pilgrims  and  tramps, 
who  half -raise  themselves  in  order  to  look  at  Tihon 
and  Merik.    They  wait  in  silence. 

Tihon.  The  devil  brought  you  here  !  [Comes  out  from 
behind  the  bar]  What  a  gentleman  !  Come  on,  now.  [Takes 
o^Merik's  boots]  You  child  of  Cain  .  .  . 

Merik.  That's  right.  Put  them  side  by  side.  .  .  . 
Like  that  .  .  .  you  can  go  now  ! 

Tihon.  [Returns  to  the  bar-counter]  You're  too  fond  of 


ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD  25 

being  clever.  You  do  it  again  and  I'll  turn  you  out  of 
the  inn !  Yes !  [To  Bortsov,  who  is  affroaching]  You, 
again  ? 

Bortsov.  Look  here,  suppose  I  give  you  something 
made  of  gold.  ...  I  will  give  it  to  you. 

TiHON.  What  are  you  shaking  for  ?     Talk  sense  ! 

Bortsov.  It  may  be  mean  and  wicked  on  my  part, 
but  what  am  I  to  do  1  I'm  doing  this  wicked  thing,  not 
reckoning  on  what's  to  come.  ...  If  I  was  tried  for  it, 
they'd  let  me  ofi.  Take  it,  only  on  condition  that  you 
return  it  later,  when  I  come  back  from  town.  I  give  it  to 
you  in  front  of  these  witnesses.  You  will  be  my  witnesses  ! 
[Takes  a  gold  medallion  out  from  the  breast  of  his  coat]  Here 
it  is.  ...  I  ought  to  take  the  portrait  out,  but  I've 
nowhere  to  put  it ;  I'm  wet  all  over.  .  .  .  Well,  take  the 
portrait,  too  !  Only  mind  this  .  .  .  don't  let  your  fingers 
touch  that  face.  .  .  .  Please  ...  I  was  rude  to  you,  my 
dear  fellow,  I  was  a  fool,  but  forgive  me  and  .  .  .  don't 
touch  it  with  your  fingers.  .  .  .  Don't  look  at  that  face 
with  your  eyes.  [Gives  Tihon  the  medallion. 

TiHON.  [Examining  it]  Stolen  property.  .  .  .  All  right, 
then,  drink.  .  .  .  [Pours  out  vodka]  Confound  you. 

Bortsov.  Only  don't  you  touch  it  .  .  .  with  your 
fingers.  [Drinks  slowly,  with  feverish  pauses 

Tihon.  [Opens  the  medallion]  Hm  ...  a  lady  !  .  .  . 
Where  did  you  get  hold  of  this  ? 

Merik.  Let's  have  a  look.  [Goes  to  the  bar]  Let's  see. 

Tihon.  [Pushes  his  hand  away]  Where  are  you  going 
to  ?    You  look  somewhere  else  ! 

Fedya.  [Gets  up  and  comes  to  Tihon]  I  want  to  look 
too ! 

Several  of  the  tramps,  etc.,  approach  the  bar  and  form 
a  group.    Merik  grips  Tihon's  hand  firmly  with 


26  ONTHEIIIGHROAD 

both  his,  looks  at  the  portrait  in  the  medallion  in 
silence.    A  pause. 

Meuik.  a  pretty  she-devil.     A  real  lady.  .  .  . 

Fedya.  a  real  lady.  .  .  .  Look  at  her  cheeks,  her 
eyes.  .  .  .  Open  your  hand,  I  can't  see.  Hair  coming 
down  to  her  waist.  ,  .  .  It  is  lifelike  !  She  might  be  going 
to  say  something.  .  .  .  [Pause. 

Merik.  It's  destruction  for  a  weak  man.  A  woman  like 
that  gets  a  hold  on  one  and  .  .  .  [Waves  his  hand]  you're 
done  for ! 

Kusma's    voice    is    heard.    "  Trrr.  .  .  .  Stop,    you 
brutes  !  "    Enter  Kusma. 

KuSMA.  There  stands  an  inn  upon  my  way.  Shall  I 
drive  or  walk  past  it,  say  ?  You  can  pass  your  own  father 
and  not  notice  him,  but  you  can  see  an  inn  in  the  dark  a 
hundred  versts  away.  Make  way,  if  you  believe  in  God ! 
Hullo,  there !  [Planks  a  five-copeck  piece  doum  on  the  counter] 
A  glass  of  real  Madeira  !     Quick  ! 

Fedya.  Oh,  you  devil ! 

TiHON.  Don't  wave  your  arms  about,  or  you'll  hit  some- 
body. 

Kusma.  God  gave  us  arms  to  wave  about.  Poor  sugary 
things,  you're  half-melted.  You're  frightened  of  the  rain, 
poor  delicate  things, 

[Drinks. 

Efimovna.  You  may  well  get  frightened,  good  man,  if 
you're  caught  on  your  way  in  a  night  like  this.  Now, 
thank  God,  it's  all  right,  there  are  many  villages  and  houses 
where  you  can  shelter  from  the  weather,  but  before  that 
there  weren't  any.  Oh,  Lord,  it  was  bad  !  You  walk  a 
hundred  versts,  and  not  only  isn't  there  a  village,  or  a 
house,  but  you  don't  even  see  a  dry  stick.  So  you  sleep 
on  the  ground.  .  .  . 


ONTHEHIGHROAD  27 

KuSMA.  Have  you  been  long  on  this  earth,  old  woman  ? 

Efimovna.  Over  seventy  years,  little  father. 

KusMA.  Over  seventy  years !  You'll  soon  come  to 
crows'  years.  [Looks  at  Bortsov]  And  what  sort  of  a 
raisin  is  this  ?  [Staring  at  Bortsov]  Sir  !  [Bortsov  recog- 
nizes KuSMA  and  retires  in  confusion  to  a  corner  of  the  room, 
where  he  sits  on  a  beyich]  Semyon  Sergeyevitch  !  Is  that 
you,  or  isn't  it  ?  Eh  ?  What  are  you  doing  in  this  place  ? 
It's  not  the  sort  of  place  for  you,  is  it  ? 

Bortsov.  Be  quiet ! 

Merik.  [To  Kusma]  Who  is  it  ? 

KuSMA.  A  miserable  sufferer.  [Paces  irritably  by  the 
counter]  Eh  ?  In  an  inn,  my  goodness !  Tattered ! 
Drunk !  I'm  upset,  brothers  .  .  .  upset.  .  .  .  [To  Merik, 
in  an  undertone]  It's  my  master  .  .  .  our  landlord.  Semyon 
Sergeyevitch  and  Mr.  Bortsov.  .  .  .  Have  you  ever  seen 
a  man  in  such  a  state  1  What  does  he  look  like  ?  Just .  . . 
it's  the  drink  that  brought  him  to  this.  .  .  .  Give  me  some 
more !  [Drinks]  I  come  from  his  village,  Bortsovka ;  you 
may  have  heard  of  it,  it's  200  versts  from  here,  in  the 
Ergovsky  district.  We  used  to  be  his  father's  serfs.  .  .  . 
What  a  shame  ! 

Merik.  Was  he  rich  ? 

Kusma.  Very. 

Merik.  Did  he  drink  it  all  ? 

Kusma.  No,  my  friend,  it  was  something  else.  ...  He 
used  to  be  great  and  rich  and  sober.  .  .  .  [To  Tihon]  Why 
you  yourself  used  to  see  him  riding,  as  he  used  to,  past 
this  inn,  on  his  way  to  the  town.  Such  bold  and  noble 
horses !  A  carriage  on  springs,  of  the  best  quality  !  He 
used  to  own  five  troikas,  brother.  .  .  .  Five  years  ago, 
I  remember,  he  came  here  driving  two  horses  from 
Mikishinsky,  and  he  paid  with  a  five-rouble  piece.  .  .  . 


28  ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD 

I  haven't  the  time,  he  says,  to  wait  for  the  change.  .  .  . 
There ! 

MePvTK.  His  brain's  gone,  I  suppose. 

KusMA.  His  brain's  all  right.  ...  It  all  happened 
because  of  his  cowardice !  From  too  much  fat.  First  of 
all,  children,  because  of  a  woman.  .  .  .  He  fell  in  love 
with  a  woman  of  the  town,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  there 
wasn't  any  more  beautiful  thing  in  the  wide  world.  A 
fool  may  love  as  much  as  a  wise  man.  The  girl's  people 
were  all  right.  .  .  .  But  she  wasn't  exactly  loose,  but 
just  .  .  .  giddy  .  .  .  always  changing  her  mind  !  Always 
winking  at  one !  Always  laughing  and  laughing.  .  .  . 
No  sense  at  all.  The  gentry  like  that,  they  think  that's 
nice,  but  we  moujiks  would  soon  chuck  her  out.  .  ,  . 
Well,  he  fell  in  love,  and  his  luck  ran  out.  He  began  to 
keep  company  with  her,  one  thing  led  to  another  .  .  . 
they  used  to  go  out  in  a  boat  all  night,  and  play  pianos.  .  .  . 

BoRTSOv.  Don't  tell  them,  Kusma  !  Why  should  you  ? 
What  has  my  life  got  to  do  with  them  ? 

Kusma.  Forgive  me,  your  honour,  I'm  only  telling  them 
a  little  .  .  .  what  does  it  matter,  anyway.  .  .  .  I'm 
shaking  all  over.    Pour  out  some  more.  [Drinls. 

Merik.  [In  a  se7nito7ie]  And  did  she  love  him  ? 

Kusma.  [In  a  semitone  which  gradually  becomes  his 
ordinary  voice]  How  shouldn't  she  ?  He  was  a  man  of 
means.  ...  Of  course  you'll  fall  in  love  when  the  man  has 
a  thousand  dessiatins  and  money  to  burn.  ,  .  .  He  was  a 
solid,  dignified,  sober  gentleman  .  .  .  always  the  same, 
like  this  .  .  .  give  me  your  hand  [TaJces  Merik's  hand] 
"  How  do  you  do  and  good-bye,  do  me  the  favour."     Well, 

was  going  one  evening  past  his  garden — and  what  a 
garden,  brother,  versts  of  it — I  was  going  along  quietly, 
and  I  look  and  see  the  two  of  them  sitting  on  a  seat  and 


ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD  29 

kissing  each  other.  [Imitates  the  sound]  He  kisses  her  once, 
and  the  snake  gives  him  back  two.  .  .  .  He  was  holding 
her  white,  little  hand,  and  she  was  all  fiery  and  kept  on 
getting  closer  and  closer,  too.  ..."  I  love  you,"  she 
says.  And  he,  like  one  of  the  damned,  walks  about  from 
one  place  to  another  and  brags,  the  coward,  about  his 
happiness.  .  .  .  Gives  one  man  a  rouble,  and  tv/o  to 
another.  .  .  .  Gives  me  money  for  a  horse.  Let  off  every- 
body's debts.  .  .  . 

BoPvTSov.  Oh,  why  tell  them  all  about  it  ?  These  people 
haven't  any  sympathy.  ...  It  hurts  ! 

KusMA.  It's  nothing,  sir !  They  asked  me !  Why 
shouldn't  I  tell  them  ?  But  if  you  are  angry  I  vron't  .  .  . 
I  won't.  .  .  .  What  do  I  care  for  them.  .  .  . 

[Post  bells  are  heard. 

Fedya.  Don't  shout ;  tell  us  quietly,  .  .  . 

KuSMA.  I'll  tell  you  quietly.  ...  He  doesn't  want  me 
to,  but  it  can't  be  helped.  .  .  .  But  there's  nothing  more 
to  tell.  They  got  married,  that's  all.  There  was  nothing 
else.  Pour  out  another  drop  for  Kusma  the  stony ! 
[DrinJcs]  I  don't  like  people  getting  drunk  !  Why  the 
time  the  wedding  took  place,  when  the  gentlefolk  sat  down 
to  supper  afterwards,  she  went  off  in  a  carriage  .  .  . 
[Whispers]  To  the  town,  to  her  lover,  a  lawyer.  ...  Eh  ? 
What  do  you  think  of  her  now  ?  Just  at  the  very  moment ! 
She  would  be  let  ой  lightly  if  she  were  killed  for  it ! 

Merik.  [Thoughtfully]  WeU  .  .  .  what  happened  then  1 

Kusma.  He  went  mad.  ...  As  you  see,  he  started  with 
a  fly,  as  they  say,  and  now  it's  grown  to  a  bumble-bee.  It 
was  a  fly  then,  and  now — it's  a  bumble-bee.  .  .  .  And  he 
still  loves  her.  Look  at  him,  he  loves  her  !  I  expect  he's 
walking  now  to  the  town  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her  with  one  eye. 
.  .  .  He'll  get  a  glimpse  of  her,  and  go  back.  .  .  . 


80  ON    THE    III  G  И    ROAD 

The  post  has  driven  up  to  the  inn.    The  Postman 
enters  and  has  a  drink. 

TinON.  The  post's  late  to-day  ! 

The  Postman  pays  in  silence  and  goes  out.     The 
post  drives  off,  the  hells  ringing. 

A  Voice  prom  the  Corner.  One  could  rob  the  post  in 
weather  like  this — easy  as  spitting. 

Merik.  I've  been  alive  thirty-five  years  and  I  haven't 
robbed  the  post  once.  .  .  .  [Pause]  It's  gone  now  .  .  . 
too  late,  too  late.  .  .  . 

KusMA.  Do  you  want  to  smell  the  inside  of  a  prison  ? 

Merik.  People  rob  and  don't  go  to  prison.  And  if  I 
do  go  !  [Suddenly]  What  else  ? 

KuSMA.  Do  you  mean  that  unfortunate  ? 

Merik.  Who  else  ? 

KusMA.  The  second  reason,  brothers,  why  he  was  ruined 
wasbecauseof  his  brother-in-law,  his  sister's  husband.  .  .  . 
He  took  it  into  his  head  to  stand  surety  at  the  bank  for 
30,000  roubles  for  his  brother-in-law.  The  brother-in- 
law's  a  thief.  .  .  .  The  swindler  knows  which  side  his 
bread's  buttered  and  won't  budge  an  inch.  ...  So  he 
doesn't  pay  up.  ...  So  our  man  had  to  pay  up  the  whole 
thirty  thousand.  [Sighs]  The  fool  is  suffering  for  his  folly. 
His  wife's  got  children  now  by  the  lawyer  and  the  brother- 
in-law  has  bought  an  estate  near  Poltava,  and  our  man 
goes  round  inns  like  a  fool,  and  complains  to  the  likes  of 
us :  "  I've  lost  all  faith,  brothers !  I  can't  believe  in 
anybody  now ! "  It's  cowardly  I  Every  man  has  his 
grief,  a  snake  that  sucks  at  his  heart,  and  does  that  mean 
that  he  must  drink  ?  Take  our  village  elder,  for  example. 
His  wife  plays  about  with  the  schoolmaster  in  broad  day- 
light, and  spends  his  money  on  drink,  but  the  elder  walks 
about  smiling  to  himself.     He's  just  a  little  thinner.  ,  . 


ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD  31 

TiHON.  [Sighs]  When  God  gives  a  man  strength.  .  .  . 

KuSMA.  There's  all  sorts  of  strength,  that's  true.  .  .  . 
Well  ?  How  much  does  it  come  to  ?  [Pays]  Take  your 
pound  of  flesh !  Good-bye,  children !  Good-night  and 
pleasant  dreams  !  It's  time  I  hurried  ой.  I'm  bringing 
my  lady  a  midwife  from  the  hospital.  .  .  .  She  must  be 
getting  wet  with  waiting,  poor  thing.  .  .  . 

[Rims  out.    A  pause. 

TiHON.  Oh,  you  !     Unhappy  man,  come  and  drink  this  ! 

[Pours  out. 

BoRTSOV.  Comes  wp  to  the  bar  hesitatingly  and  drinks] 
That  means  I  now  owe  you  for  two  glasses 

TiHON.  You  don't  owe  me  anything  ?  Just  drink  and 
drown  your  sorrows  ! 

Fedya.  Drink  mine,  too,  sir !  Oh  !  [Throws  down  a 
five-copech  piece]  If  you  drink,  you  die ;  if  you  don't 
drink,  you  die.  It's  good  not  to  drink  vodka,  but  by 
God  you're  easier  when  you've  got  some  !  Vodka  takes 
grief  away.  ...  It  is  hot ! 

BoRTSOV.  Foo  !     The  heat ! 

Merik.  Give  it  here  !  [Takes  the  medallion  from  Tihon 
and  examines  her  portrait]  Hm.  Ean  off  after  the  wedding. 
What  a  woman  ! 

A  Voice  from  the  Corner.  Pour  him  out  another  glass, 
Tihon.     Let  him  drink  mine,  too. 

Merik.  [Dashes  the  medallion  to  the  ground]  Curse  her  ! 
Goes  quickly  to  his  place  and  lies  down,  face  to  the 
wall.    General  excitement. 

BoRTSOv.  Here,  what's  that  ?  [Picks  up  the  medallion] 
How  dare  you,  you  beast  ?  What  right  have  you  ?  [Tear- 
fully] Do  you  want  me  to  kill  you  ?  You  moujik  !  You 
boor  ! 

Tihon.  Don't  be  angry,  sir.  ...  It  isn't  glass,  it  isn't 


82  ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD 

broken.  .  .  .  Have  another  drink  and  go  to  .sleep.  [Pours 
out]  Here  I've  been  listening  to  you  all,  and  when  I  ought 
to  have  locked  up  long  ago. 

[Goes  and  locks  door  leading  out. 

BoRTSOv.  [Drinks]  How  dare  he  ?  The  fool !  [To 
Merik]  Do  you  understand  ?     You're  a  fool,  a  donkey  ! 

Savva.  Cliildren  !  If  you  please  !  Stop  that  talking  1 
What's  the  good  of  making  a  noise  ?  Let  people  go  to 
sleep. 

TiHON.  Lie  down,  lie  down  ...  be  quiet !  [Goes  behind 
the  counter  and  locks  the  till]  It's  time  to  sleep. 

Fedya.  It's  time !  [Lies  down]  Pleasant  dreams, 
brothers ! 

Merik.  [Gets  up  and  spreads  Ms  short  fur  and  coat  on 
the  bench]  Come  on,  lie  down,  sir. 

TiHON.  And  where  will  you  sleep. 

Merik.  Oh,  anywhere.  .  .  .  The  floor  will  do.  .  .  . 
[Spreads  a  coat  on  the  floor]  It's  all  one  to  me  [Puts  the  axe 
by  him]  It  would  be  torture  for  him  to  sleep  on  the  floor. 
He's  used  to  silk  and  down.  .  .  . 

TiHON.  [To  BoRTSOv]  Lie  down,  your  honour !  You've 
looked  at  that  portrait  long  enough.  [Puts  out  a  candle] 
Throw  it  away  1 

BoRTSOV.  [Swaying  about]  Where  can  I  lie  down  ? 

TiHON.  In  the  tramp's  place  1  Didn't  you  hear  him 
giving  it  up  to  you  ? 

BoRTSOv.  [Going  up  to  the  vacant  place]  I'm  a  bit  .  .  . 
drunk  .  .  .  after  all  that.  ...  Is  this  it  ?  ...  Do  I  lie 
down  here  ?     Eh  ? 

TiHON.  Yes,  yes,  lie  down,  don't  be  afraid. 

[Stretches  himself  out  on  the  counter. 

BoRTSOV.  [Lying  dow7i]  I'm  .  .  .  drunk.  .  .  .  Every- 
thing's going  round.  .  .  .  [Opens  the  medallion]  Haven't 


ONTHEHIGHROAD  88 

you  a  little  candle  ?  [Pause]  You're  a  queer  little  woman 
Masha.  .  .  .  Looking  at  me  out  of  the  frame  and  laugh- 
ing. .  .  .  [Laughs]  I'm  drunk !  And  should  you  laugh 
at  a  man  because  he's  drunk  ?  You  look  out,  as  Schast- 
livtsev  says,  and  .  .  .  love  the  drunkard. 

Fedya.  How  the  wind  howls.    It's  dreary  ! 

BoRTSOv.  [Laughs]  What  a  woman.  .  .  .  Why  do  you 
keep  on  going  round  ?     I  can't  catch  you  ! 

Merik.  He's  wandering.  Looked  too  long  at  the  por- 
trait. [Laughs]  What  a  business !  Educated  people  go 
and  invent  all  sorts  of  machines  and  medicines,  but  there 
hasn't  yet  been  a  man  wise  enough  to  invent  a  medicine 
against  the  female  sex.  .  .  .  They  try  to  cure  every  sort 
of  disease,  and  it  never  occurs  to  them  that  more  people 
die  of  women  than  of  disease.  .  .  .  Sly,  stingy,  cruel, 
brainless.  .  .  .  The  mother-in-law  torments  the  bride 
and  the  bride  makes  things  square  by  swindling  the 
husband  .  .  .  and  there's  no  end  to  it.  .  .  . 

TiHON.  The  women  have  ruffled  his  hair  for  him,  and 
80  he's  bristly. 

Merik.  It  isn't  only  I.  .  .  .  From  the  beginning  of  the 
ages,  since  the  world  has  been  in  existence,  people  have 
complained.  .  .  .  It's  not  for  nothing  that  in  the  songs 
and  stories,  the  devil  and  the  woman  are  put  side  by 
Bide.  .  .  .  Not  for  nothing  !  It'shalf  true,  at  any  rate.  .  . 
[Pause]  Here's  the  gentleman  playing  the  fool,  but  I  had 
more  sense,  didn't  I,  when  I  left  my  father  and  mother, 
and  became  a  tramp  ? 

Fedta.  Because  of  women  ? 

Merik.  Just  like  the  gentleman  ...  I  walked  about 
like  one  of  the  damned,  bewitched,  blessing  my  stars  .  . 
on   fire   day    and   night,    until   at   last    my    eyes    were 
opened.  .  .      It  wasn't  love,  but  Just  a  fraud.  .  .  . 


84  ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD 

Fedya.  What  did  you  do  to  her  ? 

Merik.  Never  you  mind.  .  .  .  [Pause]  Do  you  think 
I  killed  her  ?  .  .  .  I  wouldn't  do  it.  .  .  .  If  you  kill,  you 
яге  sorry  for  it.  .  .  .  She  can  live  and  be  happy  !  If  only 
I'd  never  set  eyes  on  you,  or  if  I  could  only  forget  you, 
you  viper's  brood  !  [A  knocking  at  the  door. 

TiHON.  Whom  have  the  devils  brought.  .  .  .  Who's 
there  ?  [Knocking]  AVho  knocks  ?  [Gets  wp  and  goes  to  the 
door]  Who  knocks  ?     Go  away,  we've  locked  up  ! 

A  Voice.  Please  let  me  in,  Tihon.  The  carriage-spring's 
broken !  Be  a  father  to  me  and  help  me  !  If  I  only  had 
a  little  string  to  tie  it  round  with,  we'd  get  there  somehow 
or  other. 

Tihon.  Who  are  you  ? 

The  Voice.  My  lady  is  going  to  Varsonofyev  from  the 
town.  .  .  .  It's  only  five  versts  farther  on.  .  .  .  Do  be  a 
good  man  and  help  ! 

Tihon.  Go  and  tell  the  lady  that  if  she  pays  ten 
roubles  she  can  have  her  string  and  we'll  mend  the 
spring. 

The  Voice.  Have  you  gone  mad,  or  what  ?  Ten 
roubles !  You  mad  dog !  Profiting  by  our  misfor- 
tunes ! 

Tihon.  Just  as  you  like.  .  .  .  You  needn't  if  you  don't 
want  to. 

The  Voice.  Very  well,  wait  a  bit.  [Pause]  She  says,  all 
right. 

Tihon.  Pleased  to  hear  it ! 

[Ojjens  door.    The  Coachman  enters. 

Coachman.  Good  evening,  Orthodox  people !  Well, 
give  me  the  string  !  Quick  !  Who'll  go  and  help  us, 
children  1  There'll  bt  something  left  over  for  your 
trouble  1 


ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD  85 

TiHON.  There  won't  be  anything  left  over.  .  .  .  Let 
them  sleep,  the  two  of  us  can  manage. 

Coachman.  Foo,  I  am  tired  !  It's  cold,  and  there's  not 
a  dry  spot  in  all  the  mud.  .  .  .  Another  thing,  dear.  .  .  . 
Have  you  got  a  little  room  in  here  for  the  lady  to  warm 
herself  in  ?  The  carriage  is  all  on  one  side,  she  can't  stay 
in  it.  .  .  . 

TiHON.  What  does  she  want  a  room  for  ?  She  can 
warm  herself  in  here,  if  she's  cold.  .  .  .  We'll  find  a  place 
[Clears  a  space  next  to  Bortsov]  Get  up,  get  up  !  Just  lie 
on  the  floor  for  an  hour,  and  let  the  lady  get  warm.  [To 
Bortsov]  Get  up,  your  honour  1  Sit  up  !  [Bortsov  sits 
up]  Here's  a  place  for  you.  [Exit  Coachman. 

Fedya.  Here's  a  visitor  for  you,  the  devil's  brought  her  ! 
Now  there'll  be  no  sleep  before  daylight. 

TiHON.  I'm  sorry  I  didn't  ask  for  fifteen.  .  .  .  She'd 
have  given  them.  .  .  .  [Stands  expectantly  before  the  door] 
You're  a  delicate  sort  of  people,  I  must  say.  [Ejiter  Maria 
Egorovna,  followed  by  the  Coachman.  Tihon  bows.] 
Please,  your  highness  !  Our  room  is  very  humble,  full  oJ 
blackbeetles  !     But  dcn't  disdain  it ! 

Maria  Egorovna.  I  can't  see  anything.  .  .  .  Which 
way  do  I  go  ? 

Tihon.  This  way,  your  highness  !  [Leads  her  to  the  place 
^ext  to  Bortsov]  This  way,  please.  [Blows  on  the  place] 
I  haven't  any  separate  rooms,  excuse  me,  but  don't  you 
be  afraid,  madam,  the  people  here  are  good  and  quiet.  .  .  . 

Maria  Egorovna  [Sits  next  to  Bortsov]  How  awfully 
stuffy  !     Open  the  door,  at  any  rate  ! 

Tihon.  Yes,  madam.         [Runs  and  opens  the  door  wide. 

Merik.  We're  freezing,  and  you  open  the  door !  [Gets  up 
and  slamp  it]  Who  are  you  to  be  giving  orders  ? 

[Lies  down 


36  ONTIIEniGnROAD 

TiHON.  Excuse  mc,  your  highness,  but  we've  a  little 
fool  here  ...  a  bit  cracked.  .  .  .  But  don't  you  be 
frightened,  he  won't  do  you  any  harm.  .  .  .  Only  you  must 

excuse  me,  madam,  I  can't  do  this  for  ten  roubles 

Make  it  fifteen. 

Maria  Egokovna.  Very  well,  only  be  quick. 

TiHON.  This  minute  .  .  .  this  very  instant.  [Drags 
some  siring  out  from  under  the  counter']  This  minute. 

{A  pause. 

BoRTSov.  [Looking  at  Maria  Egorovna]  Marie  .  .  . 
Masha  .  .  . 

Maria  Egorovna  [Loob  at  Bortsov]  What's  this  ? 

BoRTSOV.  Marie  ...  is  it  you  ?  Where  do  you  come 
from  ?  []\Iaria  Egorovna  recognizes  Bortsov,  screams 
and  runs  off  into  the  centre  of  the  floor.  Bortsov  follows'] 
Marie,  it  is  I  ...  I  [Laughs  loudly]  My  wife  !  Marie ! 
Where  am  1 1     People,  a  light  I 

Maria  Egorovna.  Get  away  from  me  !  You  lie,  it  isn't 
you  !  It  can't  be  !  [Covers  her  face  with  her  hands]  It's  a 
lie,  it's  all  nonsense  ! 

Bortsov.  Her  voice,  her  movements.  .  .  .  Marie,  it 
is  I !  I'll  stop  in  a  moment.  ...  I  was  drunk.  .  .  .  My 
head's  going  round.  .  .  .  My  God !  Stop,  stop.  ...  I 
can't  understand  anything.  [Yells]  My  wife  ! 

Falls  at  her  feet  and  sobs.    A  group  collects  around 
the  husband  and  wife. 

Maria  Egorovna.  Stand  back !  [Го  the  Coachman] 
Denis,  let's  go  !     I  can't  stop  here  any  longer  ! 

Merik.  [Jumps  up  and  looks  her  steadily  in  the  face] 
The  portrait !  [Grasps  her  hand]  It  is  she !  Eh,  people, 
she's  the  gentleman's  wife  ! 

Maria  Egorovna.  Get  away,  fellow  I  [Tries  to  tear  her 
hand  away  from  him]  Denis,   why  do  you   stand   there 


ON   THE    HIGH    ROAD  37 

staring  ?  [Denis  and  Tihon  run  up  to  her  and  get  hold  of 
Merik's  arms]  This  thieves'  kitchen  !  Let  go  my  hand  I 
I'm  not  afraid  !  .  .  .  Get  away  from  me  ! 

Mepjk.*  Wait  a  bit,  and  I'll  let  go.  .  .  .  Just  let  me 
say  one  word  to  you.  .  .  .  One  word,  so  that  you  may 
understand.  .  .  .  Just  wait.  .  .  .  [Turns  to  Tihon  and 
Denis]  Get  away,  you  rogues,  let  go  !  I  shan't  let  you 
go  till  I've  had  my  say  !  Stop  .  .  .  one  moment.  [Strikes 
his  forehead  with  his  fist]  No,  God  hasn't  given  me  the 
wisdom  !     I  can't  think  of  the  word  for  you  ! 

Maeia  Egorovna.  [Tears  away  her  hand]  Get  away  ! 
Drunkards  .  .  .  let's  go,  Denis  ! 

She  tries  to  go  out,  but  Merik  blocks  the  door. 
Mbrik.  Just  throw  a  glance  at  him,  with  only  one  eye 
if  you  like  !    Or  say  only  just  one  kind  little  word  to  him  ! 
For  God's  own  sake  ! 
Maria  Egorovna.  Take  away  this  .  .  .  fool. 
Merik.  Then     the     devil    take     you,     you    accursed 
woman  1 

He  swings  his  axe.    General  confusion.    Everybody 
jum'ps  up  noisily  and  with  cries  of  horror.    Savva 
stands  between  Merik  and  Maria  Egorovna.  .  .  . 
D-EWLS  forces  Merik  to  one  side  and  carries  out  his 
mistress.    After  this  all  stand  as  if  turned  to  stone, 
A  prolonged  pause.    Bortsov  suddenly  waves  his 
hands  in  the  air. 
Bortsov.  Marie  .  .  .  where  are  you,  Marie  ! 
Nazarovna.  My  God,  my  God !    You've  torn  up  my 
Boul,  your  murderers  !     What  an  accursed  night ! 

Merik.  [Lowering  his  hand ;  he  still  holds  the  axe]  Did 
I  kill  her  or  no  ? 

*  Throughout  this  speech,  in  the  original,  Merik  uses  the  familiar 
second  person  singular. 


38  ON    THE    HIGH    ROAD 

TiHON.  Thank  God,  your  head  is  safe.  .  .  . 

Merik.  Then  I  didn't  kill  her.  .  .  .  [Totters  to  his  bed] 
Fate  hasn't  sent  mc  to  my  death  because  of  a  stolen 
axe.  .  .  .  [Falls  down  and  sobs]  Woe  1  Woe  ia  me ! 
Have  pity  on  me,  Orthodox  people  1 

Curtain. 


THE  PROPOSAL 


CHARACTERS 

Stefan  Stepanovitch  Chubukov,  a  landowner 

Natalya  Stepanovna,  his  daughter,  twenty-jive  years  old 

Ivan  Vassilevitch  Lomov,  о  neighbour  of  Chubukov,  a 
large  and  hearty,  but  very  suspicious  landowner 

The  scene  is  laid  at  Chubukov's  country-house 


THE  PROPOSAL 

A  drawing-room  in  Chubukov's  house. 

LoMOV   enters,   wearing  a  dress-jacket  and  white  gloves. 
Chubdkov  rises  to  meet  him. 

Chubukov.  My  dear  fellow,  whom  do  I  see !  Ivan 
Vassilevitch  !  I  am  extremely  glad  !  [Squeezes  his  hayid] 
Now  this  is  a  surprise,  my  darling.  .  .  .  How  are  you  1 

LoMOV.  Thank  you.    And  how  may  you  be  getting  on  ? 

Chubukov.  We  just  get  along  somehow,  my  angel, 
thanks  to  your  prayers,  and  so  on.  Sit  down,  please 
do.  .  .  .  Now,  you  know,  you  shouldn't  forget  all  about 
your  neighbours,  my  darling.  My  dear  fellow,  why  are 
you  so  formal  in  yoiir  get-up  ?  Evening  dress,  gloves,  and 
so  on.    Can  you  be  going  anywhere,  my  treasure  ? 

LoMOV.  No,  I've  come  only  to  see  you,  honoured  Stepan 
Stepanovitch. 

Chubukov.  Then  why  are  you  in  evening  dress,  my 
precious  1  As  if  you're  paying  a  New  Year's  Eve 
visit  ! 

LoMOV.  Well,  you  see,  it's  like  this.  [Takes  his  arm] 
I've  come  to  you,  honoured  Stepan  Stepanovitch,  to 
trouble  you  with  a  request.  Not  once  or  twice  have  I 
already  had  the  privilege  of  applying  to  you  for  help,  and 
you  have  always,  so  to  speak  ...  I  must  ask  your  pardon, 
I  am  getting  excited.  I  shall  drink  some  water,  honoured 
Stepan  Stepanovitch.  [Drinks. 

il 


42  THE    PROPOSAL 

Chubukov.  [Aside]  He's  come  to  borrow  money  1  Shan't 
give  him  any  !  [Aloud]  What  is  it,  my  beauty  ? 

LoMOV.  You  see,  Honour  Stepanitch  ...  I  beg  pardon, 
Stepan  Honouritch  ...  I  mean,  I'm  awfully  excited,  as 
you  will  please  notice.  ...  In  short,  you  alone  can  help 
me,  though  I  don't  deserve  it,  of  course  .  .  .  and  haven't 
any  right  to  count  on  your  assistance.  .  .  . 

Chubukov.  Oh,  dou't  go  round  and  round  it,  darling! 
Spit  it  out !    Well  ? 

LoMOV  One  moment  .  .  .  this  very  minute.  The  fact 
is,  I've  come  to  ask  the  hand  of  your  daughter,  Natalya 
Stepanovna,  in  marriage. 

Chubukov.  [Joyfully]  By  Jove !  Ivan  Vassilevitch  ! 
Say  it  again — I  didn't  hear  it  all ! 

LoMOV.  I  have  the  honour  to  ask  .  .  . 

Chubukov.  [Interrwpting]  My  dear  fellow  ...  I'm  so 
glad,  and  so  on.  .  .  .  Yes,  indeed,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  [Embraces  and  kisses  Lomov]  I've  been  hoping  for 
it  for  a  long  time.  It's  been  my  continual  desire.  [Sheds 
a  tear]  And  I've  always  loved  you,  my  angel,  as  if  you 
were  my  own  son.  May  God  give  you  both  His  help  and 
His  love  and  so  on,  and  I  did  so  much  hope  .  .  .  What 
am  I  behaving  in  this  idiotic  way  for  ?  I'm  ofi  my  balance 
with  joy,  absolutely  off  my  balance  !  Oh,  with  all  my 
soul  .  .  .  I'll  go  and  call  Natasha,  and  all  that. 

LoMOV.  [Greatly  moved]  Honoured  Stepan  Stepanovitch, 
do  you  think  I  may  count  on  her  consent  ? 

Chubukov.  Why,  of  course,  my  darling,  and  ...  as  if 
she  won't  consent !  She's  in  love  ;  egad,  she's  like  a  love- 
sick cat,  and  so  on.  .  .  .  Shan't  be  long !  [Exit. 

LoMOV.  It's  cold  .  .  .  I'm  trembling  all  over,  just  as 
if  I'd  got  an  examination  before  me.  The  great  thing  is, 
I  must  have  my  mind  made  up.     If  I  give  myself  time  to 


THE    PROPOSAL  43 

think,  to  hesitate,  to  talk  a  lot,  to  look  for  an  ideal,  or  for 
real  love,  then  I'll  never  get  married.  .  .  .  Brr  !  .  .  . 
It's  cold  !  Natalya  Stepanovna  is  an  excellent  housekeeper, 
not  bad-looking,  well-educated.  .  .  .  What  more  do  I 
want  ?  But  I'm  getting  a  noise  in  my  ears  from  excite- 
ment. [Drinks]  And  it's  impossible  for  me  not  to  marry 

.  .  In  the  first  place,  I'm  already  35 — a  critical  age, 
so  to  speak.  In  the  second  place,  I  ought  to  lead  a  quiet 
and  regular  life.  ...  I  suffer  from  palpitations,  I'm  exci- 
table and  always  getting  awfully  upset.  ...  At  this  very 
moment  my  lips  are  trembling,  and  there's  a  twitch  in 
my  right  eyebrow.  .  .  .  But  the  very  worst  of  all  is  the 
way  I  sleep.  I  no  sooner  get  into  bed  and  begin  to  go  off 
when  suddenly  something  in  my  left  side — gives  a  pull, 
and  I  can  feel  it  in  my  shoulder  and  head.  ...  I  jump  up 
like  a  lunatic,  walk  about  a  bit,  and  lie  down  again,  but 
as  soon  as  I  begin  to  get  off  to  sleep  there's  another  pull ! 
And  this  may  happen  twenty  times.  .  .  . 
Natalya  Stepanovna  comes  in. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Well,  there !  It's  you,  and 
papa  said,  "  Go ;  there's  a  merchant  come  for  his  goods." 
How  do  you  do,  Ivan  Vassilevitch  ! 

LoMOV.  How  do  you  do,  honoured  Natalya  Stepanovna  ? 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  You  must  excuse  my  apron  and 
neglige  .  .  .  we're  shelling  peas  for  drying.  Why  haven't 
you  been  here  for  such  a  long  time  1  Sit  down.  .  .  . 
[They  seat  themselves]  Won't  you  have  some  lunch  ? 

LoMOV.  No,  thank  you,  I've  had  some  already. 

Natalya  Ivanovna.  Then  smoke.  .  .  .  Here  are  the 
matches.  .  .  .  The  weather  is  splendid  now,  but  yesterday 
it  was  so  wet  that  the  workmen  didn't  do  anything  all 
day.  How  much  hay  have  you  stacked  ?  Just  think, 
I  felt  greedy  and  had  a  whole  field  cut,  and  now  I'm  not 


44  THE    PROPOSAL 

at  all  pleased  about  it  because  I'm  afraid  my  hay  may  rot. 
I  ought  to  have  waited  a  bit.  But  what's  this  ?  Why, 
you're  in  evening  dress  !  Well,  I  never  !  Are  you  going 
to  a  ball,  or  what  ? — though  I  must  say  you  look  better. 
.  .  .  Tell  me,  why  are  you  got  up  like  that  ? 

LoMOV.  [Excited]  You  вее,  honoured  Natalya  Stepa- 
novna  .  .  .  the  fact  is,  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  ask  you 
to  hear  me  out.  ...  Of  course  you'll  be  surprised  and 
perhaps  even  angry,  but  a  .  .  .  [Aside]  It's  awfully 
cold! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  What's  the  matter  ?  [Pause] 
Well  ? 

LoMOV.  I  shall  try  to  be  brief.  You  must  know,  honoured 
Natalya  Stepanovna,  that  I  have  long,  since  my  childhood, 
in  fact,  had  the  privilege  of  knowing  your  family.  My 
late  aunt  and  her  husband,  from  whom,  as  you  know,  I 
inherited  my  land,  always  had  the  greatest  respect  for 
your  father  and  your  late  mother.  The  Lomovs  and  the 
Chubukovs  have  always  had  the  most  friendly,  and  I 
might  almost  say  the  most  affectionate,  regard  for  each 
other.  And,  as  you  know,  my  land  is  a  near  neighbour  of 
yours.  You  will  remember  that  my  Oxen  Meadows  touch 
your  birchwoods. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Excuse  my  interrupting  you. 
You  say,  "  my  Oxen  Meadows.  .  .  ."  But  are  they 
yours  ? 

LoMOV.  Yes,  mine. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  What  are  you  talking  about  ? 
Oxen  Meadows  are  ours,  not  yours  ! 

LoMOV.  No,  mine,  honoured  Natalya  Stepanovna. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Well,  I  never  knew  that  before. 
How  do  you  make  that  out  ? 

LoMOV.  How  ?     I'm  speaking  of  those  Oxen  Meadows 


THE    PROPOSAL  45 

which  are  wedged  in  between  your  birchwoods  and  the 
Burnt  Marsh. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Yes,  yes.  .  .  .  They're  ours. 

LoMOV.  No,  you're  mistaken,  honoured  Natalya  Stepa- 
novna, they're  mine. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Just  think,  Ivan  Vassilevitch ! 
How  long  have  they  been  yours  ? 

LoMOV.  How  long  ?     As  long  as  I  can  remember. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Eeally,  you  won't  get  me  to 
believe  that ! 

LoMOV.  But  you  can  see  from  the  documents,  honoured 
Natalya  Stepanovna.  Oxen  Meadows,  it's  true,  were  once 
the  subject  of  dispute,  but  now  everybody  knows  that 
they  are  mine.  There's  nothing  to  argue  about.  You  see, 
my  aunt's  grandmother  gave  the  free  use  of  these  Meadows 
in  perpetuity  to  the  peasants  of  your  father's  grandfather, 
in  return  for  which  they  were  to  make  bricks  for  her.  The 
peasants  belonging  to  your  father's  grandfather  had  the 
free  use  of  the  Meadows  for  forty  years,  and  had  got  into 
the  habit  of  regarding  them  as  their  own,  when  it  happened 
that  .  .  . 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  No,  it  isn't  at  all  like  that! 
Both  my  grandfather  and  great-grandfather  reckoned  that 
their  land  extended  to  Burnt  Marsh — which  means  that 
Oxen  Meadows  were  ours.  I  don't  see  what  there  is  to 
argue  about.    It's  simply  silly  ! 

LoMOV.  I'll  show  you  the  documents,  Natalya  Stepa- 
novna ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  No,  you're  simply  joking,  or 
making  fun  of  me.  .  .  .  What  a  surprise  !  We've  had  the 
land  for  nearly  three  hundred  years,  and  then  we're  sud- 
denly told  that  it  isn't  ours  1  Ivan  Vassilevitch,  I  can 
hardly  believe  my  own  ears.  .  .  .  These  Meadows  aren't 


46  THE    PROPOSAL 

worth  much  to  me.  They  only  come  to  five  dessiatins,* 
and  are  worth  perhaps  300  roubles,"}"  but  I  can't  stand 
unfairness.     Say  what  you  will,  but  I  can't  stand  unfairness. 

LoMOV.  Hear  me  out,  I  implore  you  !  The  peasants  of 
your  father's  grandfather,  as  I  have  already  had  the  honour 
of  explaining  to  you,  used  to  bake  bricks  for  my  aunt's 
grandmother.  Now  my  aunt's  grandmother,  wishing  to 
make  them  a  pleasant  .  .  . 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  I  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  ali 
this   about  aunts  and  grandfathers  and  grandmothers 
The  Meadows  are  ours,  and  that's  all. 

LoMOV.  Mine. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Ours  !  You  can  go  on  proving 
it  for  two  days  on  end,  you  can  go  and  put  on  fifteen  dress- 
jackets,  but  I  tell  you  they're  ours,  ours,  ours!  I  dcn't 
want  anything  of  yours  and  I  don't  want  to  give  up  any- 
thing of  mine.     So  there  ! 

LoMOV.  Natalya  Ivanovna,  I  don't  want  the  Meadows, 
but  I  am  acting  on  principle.  If  you  like,  I'll  make  you 
a  present  of  them. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  I  can  make  you  a  present  of 
them  myself,  because  they're  mine !  Your  behaviour, 
Ivan  Vassilevitch,  is  strange,  to  say  the  least !  Up  to  this 
we  have  always  thought  of  you  as  a  good  neighbour,  a 
friend :  last  year  we  lent  you  our  threshing-machine, 
although  on  that  account  we  had  to  put  off  our  own  thresh- 
ing till  November,  but  you  behave  to  us  as  if  we  were 
gipsies.  Giving  me  my  own  land,  indeed  !  No,  really 
that's  not  at  all  neighbourly  !  In  my  opinion,  it's  even 
impudent,  if  you  want  to  know.  .  .  . 

LoMOV.  Then  you  make  out  that  I'm  a  land-grabber  ? 
Madam,  never  in  my  life  have  I  grabbed  anybody  else's 
♦  13i  acres.  f  £30. 


THEPROPOSAL  47 

land,  and  I  shan't  allow  anybody  to  accuse  me  of  having 
done  so.  .  .  .  [Qxnchly  steps  to  the  carafe  and  drinJcs  more 
water]  Oxen  Meadows  are  mine  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna,  It's  not  true,  they're  ours  ! 

LoMOV.  Mine ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  It's  not  true  !  I'll  prove  it ! 
I'll  send  my  mowers  out  to  the  Meadows  this  very  day  ! 

LoMOV.  What  ? 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  My  mowers  will  be  there  this 
very  day  ! 

LoMOV.  I'll  give  it  to  them  in  the  neck  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  You  dare  ! 

LoMOV.  [Clutches  at  his  heart]  Oxen  Meadows  are  mine  ! 
You  understand  ?     Mine  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Please  don't  shout !  You  can 
shout  yourself  hoarse  in  your  own  house,  but  here  I  must 
ask  you  to  restrain  yourself  ! 

LoMOV.  If  it  wasn't,  madam,  for  this  awful,  excruciating 
palpitation,  if  my  whole  inside  wasn't  upset,  I'd  talk  to 
you  in  a  different  way  !  [  Yells]  Oxen  Meadows  are  mine  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Ours ! 

LoMOV.  Mine  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Ours  1 

LoMOV.  Mine  ! 

Enter  Chubukov. 

Chubukov.  What's  the  matter  ?  What  are  you  shouting 
at? 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Papa,  please  tell  to  this  gentle- 
man who  owns  Oxen  Meadows,  we  or  he  ? 

Chubukov.  [To  Lomov]  Darling,  the  Meadows  are  ours  ! 

LoMOV.  But,  please,  Stepan  Stepanitch,  how  can  they 
be  yours  1  Do  be  a  reasonable  man  !  My  aunt's  grand- 
mother gave  the  Meadows  for  the  temporary  and  free  use 


48  THE    PROPOSAL 

of  your  grandfather's  peasants.  The  peasants  used  the 
land  for  forty  years  and  got  as  accustomed  to  it  as  if  it  was 
their  own,  when  it  happened  that  .  .  . 

Chubukov.  Excuse  me,  my  precious.  .  .  .  You  forget 
just  this,  that  the  peasants  didn't  pay  3'our  grandmother 
and  all  that,  because  the  Meadows  were  in  dispute,  and  so 
on.  And  now  everybody  knows  that  they're  ours.  It 
means  that  you  haven't  seen  the  plan. 

LoMOV.  I'll  prove  to  you  that  they're  mine ! 

Chubukov.  You  won't  prove  it,  my  darling. 

LoMOV.  I  shall ! 

Chubukov.  Dear  one,  why  yell  like  that  ?  You  won't 
prove  anything  just  by  yelling.  I  don't  want  anything  of 
yours,  and  don't  intend  to  give  up  what  I  have.  Why 
should  I  ?  And  you  know,  my  beloved,  that  if  you  propose 
to  go  on  arguing  about  it,  I'd  much  sooner  give  up  the 
meadows  to  the  peasants  than  to  you.     There  ! 

LoMOV.  I  don't  understand  !  How  have  you  the  right 
to  give  away  somebody  else's  property  ? 

Chubukov.  You  may  take  it  that  I  know  whether  I 
have  the  right  or  not.  Because,  young  man,  I'm  not  used 
to  being  spoken  to  in  that  tone  of  voice,  and  so  on  :  I, 
young  man,  am  twice  your  age,  and  ask  you  to  speak  to 
me  without  agitating  yourself,  and  all  that. 

LoMOV.  No,  you  just  think  I'm  a  fool  and  want  to  have 
me  on  !  You  call  my  land  yours,  and  then  you  want  me  to 
talk  to  you  calaily  and  politely  !  Good  neighbours  don't 
behave  like  that,  Stepan  Stepanitch  !  You're  not  a  neigh- 
bour, you're  a  grabber ! 

Chubukov.  What's  that  ?     What  did  you  say  ? 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Papa,  send  the  mowers  out  to 
the  Meadows  at  once  ! 

Chubukov.  W'hat  did  you  say,  sir  ? 


THE    PROPOSAL  49 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Oxen  Meadows  are  ours,  and 
I  shan't  give  them  up,  shan't  give  them  up,  shan't  give 
them  up  ! 

LoMOV.  We'll  see  !  I'll  have  the  matter  taken  to  court, 
and  then  I'll  show  you  ! 

Сиивикоу.  To  court  ?  You  can  take  it  to  court,  and 
all  that !  You  can  !  I  know  you  ;  you're  just  on  the 
look-out  for  a  chance  to  go  to  court,  and  all  that.  .  .  . 
You  pettifogger !  All  your  people  were  like  that !  All 
of  them  ! 

LoMOV.  Never  mind  about  my  people !  The  Lomovs 
have  all  been  honourable  people,  and  not  one  has  ever  been 
tried  for  embezzlement,  like  your  grandfather ! 

Chubukov.  You  Lomovs  have  had  lunacy  in  your  family, 
all  of  you ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  All,  all,  all ! 

Chubukov.  Your  grandfather  v.-as  a  drunkard,  and  your 
younger  aunt,  Nastasya  Mihailovna,  ran  away  with  an 
architect,  and  so  on.  .  .  . 

LoMOV.  And  your  mother  was  hump-backed.  [Clidchei 
at  his  heart]  Something  pulling  in  my  side.  .  .  .  My  head. 
.  .  .  Help  !     Water  ! 

Chubukov.  Your  father  was  a  guzzling  gambler ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  And  there  haven't  been  many 
backbiters  to  equal  your  aunt ! 

LoMOV.  My  left  foot  has  gone  to  sleep.  .  .  .  You're 
an  intriguer.  .  .  .  Oh,  my  heart !  .  .  .  And  it's  an  open 
secret  that  before  the  last  elections  you  bri  ...  I  can 
see  stars.  .  .  .  Where's  my  hat  ? 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  It's  low  !  It's  dishonest !  It's 
mean  ! 

Chubukov.  And  you're  just  a  malicious,  double-faced 
intriguer  !     Yes  ! 

s 


50  THE    PROPOSAL 

LoMOV.  Here's  my  liat.  .  .  .  My  heart!  .  .  .  Which 
way  ?     Where's  the  door  ?     Oh  !  ...  I  think  I'm  dying. 

.  .  My  foot's  quite  numb.  .  .  .  [Goes  to  the  door. 

CnuBUKOV.  [Following  him]  And  don't  set  foot  in  my 
house  again  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Take  it  to  court !  We'll  see ! 
LoMOV  staggers  out. 

Chubukov.  Devil  take  him  !    [Walks  about  in  excitement. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  What  a  rascal !  What  trust 
can  one  have  in  one's  neighbours  after  that ! 

Chubukov.  The  villain!     The  scarecrow  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  The  monster !  First  he  takes 
our  land  and  then  he  has  the  impudence  to  abuse  us. 

Chubukov.  And  that  blind  hen,  yes,  that  turnip-ghost 
has  the  confounded  cheek  to  make  a  proposal,  and  so  on  ! 
What  ?     A  proposal ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  What  proposal  ? 

Chubukov.  W^hy,  he  came  here  so  as  to  propose  to  you 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  To  propose  ?  To  me  ?  W^hy 
didn't  you  tell  me  so  before  ? 

Chubukov.  So  he  dresses  up  in  evening  clothes.  The 
stufied  sausage  !     The  wizen-faced  frump  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  To  propose  to  me  ?  Ah  !  [Falls 
into  an  easy-chair  and  wails]  Bring  him  back  !  Back ! 
Ah  !     Bring  him  here. 

Chubukov.  Bring  whom  here  ? 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Quick,  quick  I  I'm  ill !  Fetch 
him !  [Hysterics. 

Chubukov.  What's  that  ?  What's  the  matter  with 
you  ?  [Clutches  at  his  head]  Oh,  unhappy  man  that  I  am  ! 
I'll  shoot  myself !  I'll  hang  mvself !  We've  done  for 
her  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  I'm  dying  !    Fetch  him  1 


THE    PROPOSAL  51 

Chubukov.  Tfoo  !    At  once.    Don't  yell ! 

Runs  out.    A  pause.    Natalya  Stepanovna  waih. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  What  have  they  done  to  me ! 
Fetch  him  back  !     Fetch  him  !  [A  pause. 

Chubukov  runs  in. 

Chubukov.  He's  coming,  and  so  on,  devil  take  him  ! 
Ouf  !     Talk  to  him  yourself  ;   I  don't  want  to.  .  .  . 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  [Wails]  Fetch  him  1 

Chubukov.  [Yells]  He's  coming,  I  tell  you.  Oh, 
what  a  burden.  Lord,  to  be  the  father  of  a  grown-up 
daughter !  I'll  cut  my  throat !  I  will,  indeed !  We 
cursed  him,  abused  him,  drove  him  out,  and  it's  all  you 
.  .  .  you! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  No,  it  was  you  ! 

Chubukov.  I  tell  you  it's  not  my  fault.  [Lomov  appears 
at  the  door]  Now  you  talk  to  him  yourself  [Exit. 

Lomov  enters,  exhausted. 

Lomov.  My  heart's  palpitating  awfully.  .  .  .  My  foot's 
gone  to  sleep.  .  .  .  There's  something  keeps  pulling  in 
my  side.  .  .  • 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Forgive  us,  Ivan  Vassilevitch, 
we  were  all  a  little  heated.  ...  I  remember  now  :  Oxen 
Meadows  really  are  yours. 

Lomov.  My  heart's  beating  awfully.  .  .  .  My  Meadows. 
.  .  .  My  eyebrows  are  both  twitching.  .  .  . 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  The  Meadows  are  yours,  yes, 
yotiTS.  .  .  .  Do  sit  down.  .  .  .  [They  sit]  We  were 
wrong.  .  .  . 

Lomov.  I  did  it  on  principle.  .  .  .  My  land  is  worth 
little  to  me,  but  the  principle  .  .  . 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Yes,  the  principle,  just  so.  .  . 
Now  let's  talk  of  something  else. 

Lomov.  The  more  so  as  I  have  evidence.     My  aunt's 


52  THE    PROPOSAL 

grandmother  gave  the  land  to  your  father's  grandfather*! 
peasants  .  .  . 

Natalya  STKrANOVNA.  Ycs,  yes,  let  that  pass.  .  .  . 
[Aside]  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  get  him  started.  .  .  .  [Aloud] 
Are  you  going  to  start  shooting  soon  ? 

LoMOV.  I'm  thinking  of  having  a  go  at  the  blackcock, 
honoured  Natalya  Stcpanovna,  after  the  harvest.  Oh, 
have  you  heard  ?  Just  think,  what  a  misfortune  I've  had  ! 
My  dog  Guess,  whom  you  know,  has  gone  lame. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  "What  a  pity  !    Why  ? 

LoMOV.  I  don't  know.  .  .  .  Must  have  got  tv/isted,  or 
bitten  by  some  other  dog.  .  .  .  [Si(/hs]  My  very  best  dog, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  expense.  I  gave  Mironov  125  roubles 
for  him. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  It  was  too  much,  Ivan  Vassile- 
vitch. 

LoMOV.  I  think  it  was  very  cheap.  He's  a  first-rate 
dog. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Papa  gave  85  roubles  for  his 
Squeezer,  and  Squeezer  is  heaps  better  than  Guess  ! 

LoMOV.  Squeezer  better  than  Guess  ?  What  an  idea  ! 
[Laughs]  Squeezer  better  than  Guess  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Of  course  he's  better !  Of 
course,  Squeezer  is  young,  he  may  develop  a  bit,  but  on 
points  and  pedigree  he's  better  than  anything  that  even 
Volchanetsky  has  got. 

LoMOV.  Excuse  me,  Natalya  Stepanovna,  but  you  forget 
that  he  is  overshot,  and  an  overshot  always  means  the  dog 
is  a  bad  hunter  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Overshot,  is  he  ?  The  first 
time  I  hear  it ! 

LoMOV.  I  assure  you  that  his  lower  jaw  is  shorter  than 
the  upper. 


THE    PROPOSAL  58 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Have  you  measured  ? 

LoMov.  Ye3.  He's  all  right  at  following,  of  course,  but 
if  you  want  him  to  get  hold  of  anything  .  .  . 

Natalya  Ivanovna.  In  the  first  place,  our  Squeezer  is 
a  thoroughbred  animal,  the  son  of  Harness  and  Chisels, 
while  there's  no  getting  at  the  pedigree  of  your  dog 
at  all.  .  .  .  He's  old  and  as  ugly  as  a  worn-out  cab- 
horse. 

LoMOV.  He  is  old,  but  I  wouldn't  take  five  Squeezers 
for  him.  .  .  .  Why,  how  can  you  ?  .  .  .  Guess  is  a  dog  ; 
asforSqueezer,  well,  it's  too  funny  to  argue.  .  .  .  Anybody 
you  like  has  a  dog  as  good  as  Squeezer  .  .  .  you  may  find 
them  under  every  bush  almost.  Twenty-five  roubles 
would  be  a  handsome  price  to  pay  for  him. 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  There's  some  demon  of  contra- 
diction in  you  to-day,  Ivan  Vassilevitch.  First  you  pretend 
that  the  Meadows  are  yours ;  now,  that  Guess  is  better 
than  Squeezer.  I  don't  like  people  who  don't  say  what 
they  mean,  because  you  know  perfectly  well  that  Squeezer 
is  a  hundred  times  better  than  your  silly  Guess.  Why 
do  you  want  to  say  it  isn't  ? 

LoMOV.  I  see,  Natalya  Stepanovna,  that  you  consider 
me  either  blind  or  a  fool.  You  must  realize  that  Squeezer 
is  overshot ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  It's  not  true. 

LoMOV.  He  is ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  It's  not  true  1 

LoMOV.  Why  shout,  madam  ? 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Why  talk  rot  ?  It's  awful ! 
It's  tiiae  your  Guess  was  shot,  and  you  compare  him  with 
Squeezer  ! 

LoMOV.  Excuse  me  ;  I  cannot  continue  this  discussion 
my  heart  is  palpitating. 


54  THE     PROPOSAL 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  I've  noticed  that  those  hunters 
argue  most  who  know  least. 

LoMOV.  Madam,  please  be  silent.  .  .  .  My  heart  is  going 
to  pieces.  .  .  .  [Shouts]  Shut  up  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  I  shan't  shut  up  until  you 
acknowledge  that  Squeezer  is  a  hundred  times  better  than 
your  Guess ! 

LoMOV.  A  hundred  times  worse  I  Be  hanged  to  your 
Squeezer  1     His   head  .  .  .  eyes  .  .  .  shoulder  .  .  . 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  There's  no  need  to  hang  your 
silly  Guess  ;  he's  half-dead  already  ! 

LoMOV.  [PFeep.s]  Shut  up  !     My  heart's  bursting ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  I  shan't  shut  up. 
Enter  Chubukov. 

Chubukov.  What's  the  matter  now  ? 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Papa,  tell  us  truly,  which  is  the 
better  dog,  our  Squeezer  or  his  Guess. 

LoMOV.  Stepan  Stepanovitch,  I  implore  you  to  tell  me 
just  one  thing  :  is  your  Squeezer  overshot  or  not  ?  Yea 
or  no  ? 

Chubukov.  And  suppose  he  is  ?  What  does  it  matter  ? 
He's  the  best  dog  in  the  district  for  all  that,  and  so  on. 

LoMOV.  But  isn't  my  Guess  better  ?     Really,  now  ? 

Chubukov.  Don't  excite  yourself,  my  precious  one.  .  .  . 
Allow  me.  .  .  .  Your  Guess  certainly  has  his  good  points. 
.  .  .  He's  pure-bred,  firm  on  his  feet,  has  well-sprung  ribs, 
and  all  that.  But,  my  dear  man,  if  you  want  to  know  the 
truth,  that  dog  has  two  defects :  he's  old  and  he's  short 
in  the  muzzle. 

LoMOV.  Excuse  me,  my  heart.  .  .  .  Let's  take  the 
facts.  .  .  .  You  will  remember  that  on  the  Marusinsky 
hunt  my  Guess  ran  neck-and-neck  with  the  Count's  dog, 
while  your  Squeezer  was  left  a  whole  verst  behind. 


THE    PROPOSAL  55 

Chubukov.  He  got  left  behind  because  the  Count's 
whipper-in  hit  him  with  his  whip. 

LoMOV.  And  with  good  reason.  The  dogs  are  running 
after  a  fox,  when  Squeezer  goes  and  starts  worrying  a 
sheep  ! 

Chubukov.  It's  not  true !  .  .  .  My  dear  fellow,  I'm 
very  liable  to  lose  my  temper,  and  so,  just  because  of  that, 
let's  stop  arguing.  You  started  because  everybody  is 
always  jealous  of  everybody  else's  dogs.  Yes,  we're  all 
like  that !  You  too,  sir,  aren't  blameless  !  You  no  sooner 
notice  that  some  dog  is  better  than  your  Guess  than  you 
begin  with  this,  that  .  .  .  and  the  other  .  .  .  and  all 
that.  ...  I  remember  everything  ! 

LoMOV.  I  remember  too  ! 

Chubukov.  [Teasing  him]  I  remember,  too.  .  .  .  What 
do  you  remember  ? 

LoMOV.  My  heart  .  .  .  my  foot's  gone  to  sleep.  .  .  . 
I  can't  .  .  . 

Natal YA  Stepanovna.  [Teasing]  My  heart.  .  .  .  What 
sort  of  a  hunter  are  you  ?  You  ought  to  go  and  lie  on  the 
kitchen  oven  and  catch  blackbeetles,  not  go  after  foxes  ! 
My  heart ! 

Chubukov.  Yes  really,  what  sort  of  a  hunter  are  you, 
anyway  ?  You  ought  to  sit  at  home  with  your  palpita- 
tions, and  not  go  tracking  animals.  You  could  go  hunting, 
but  you  only  go  to  argue  with  people  and  interfere  with 
their  dogs  and  so  on.  Let's  change  the  subject  in  case 
I  lose  my  temper.     You're  not  a  hunter  at  all,  anyway  ! 

LoMOV.  And  are  you  a  hunter  ?  You  only  go  hunting 
to  get  in  with  the  Count  and  to  intrigue,  .  .  .  Oh,  my 
heart !  .  .  .  You're  an  intriguer  ! 

Chubukov.  What  ?     I  an  intriguer  ?  [Shouts]  Shut  up  ! 

LoMOV.  Intriguer ! 


56  THE    PROPOSAL 

Chubukov.  Boy  !    Pup  ! 

LoMOV.  Old  rat !    Jesuit ! 

CnuBUKOv.  Shut  up  or  I'll  shoot  you  like  a  partridge ! 
You  fool ! 

LoMOV.  Everybody  knows  that — oh  my  heart ! — your 
late  wife  used  to  beat  you.  .  .  .  My  feet  .  .  .  temples  .  .  . 
sparks.  ...  I  fall,  I  fall ! 

Chubukov.  And  you're  under  the  slipper  of  your  house- 
keeper ! 

LoMov.  There,  there,  there  .  .  .  my  heart's  burst ! 
My  shoulder's  come  ofi.  .  •  .  Where  is  my  shoulder  ?  .  .  . 
I  die.  [Falls  into  an  armchair]  A  doctor  !  [Faints. 

Chubukov.  Boy  !  Milksop!  Fool'  V m side  \[Dri7iks 
water]  Sick  ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  What  sort  of  a  hunter  are  you  ? 
You  can't  even  sit  on  a  horse  !  [To  her  father]  Papa,  what's 
the  matter  with  him  ?  Papa !  Look,  papa !  [Screams] 
Ivan  Vassilevitch  !     He's  dead  1 

Chubukov.  I'm  sick !  .  .  .  I  can't  breathe !  .  .  .  Air ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  He's  dead.  [Pulls  Lomov's 
sleeve]  Ivan  Vassilevitch !  Ivan  Vassilevitch !  What 
have  you  done  to  me  ?  He's  dead.  [Falls  into  an  arm- 
chair] A  doctor,  a  doctor  !  [Hysterics. 

Chubukov.  Oh !  .  .  .  What  is  it  ?  What's  the 
matter  ? 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  [Wails]  He's  dead  .  .  .  dead! 

Chubukov.  Who's  dead  1  [Looks  at  Lomov]  So  he  is ! 
My  word  !  Water  !  A  doctor  !  [Lifts  a  tumbler  to  Lomov's 
mouth]  Drink  this  !  .  .  .  No,  he  doesn't  drink.  ...  It 
means  he's  dead,  and  all  that.  .  .  .  I'm  the  most  unhappy 
of  men  !  Why  don't  I  put  a  bullet  into  my  brain  ?  Why 
haven't  I  cut  my  throat  yet  ?  What  am  I  waiting  for  ? 
Give  me  a  knife !    Give  me  a  pistol  1  [Lomov  moves]  He 


THE    PROPOSAL  57 

seems  to  be  coming  round.  .  .  .  Drink  some  water  !    That's 
right.  .  .  . 
LoMOV.  I  see  stars  .  .  .  mist.  .  .  .  Where  am  1 1 

Chubuhov.  Hurry  up  and  get  married  and — well,  to  the 
devil  with  you  1  She's  willing  !  [He  puts  Lomov's  hand 
into  his  daughter's]  She's  willing  and  all  that.  I  give  you 
my  blessing  and  so  on.     Only  leave  me  in  peace  ! 

LoMOV.  [Getting  up]  Eh  ?     What  ?     To  whom  ? 

Chubukov.  She's  willing  !  Well  ?  Kiss  and  be  damned 
to  you ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  [H^ai7s]  He's  alive-  .  .  .  Yes, 
yes,  I'm  willing.  .  .  . 

Chubukov.  Kiss  each  other  ! 

LoMOV.  Eh  ?  Kiss  whom  ?  [They  kiss]  Very  nice,  too. 
Excuse  me,  what's  it  all  about  1  Oh,  now  I  understand 
.  .  .  my  heart  .  .  .  stars  .  .  .  I'm  happy.  Natalya 
Stepanovna.  .  .  .  [Kisses  her  hand]  My  foot's  gone  to 
sleep.  .  .  . 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  I  .  .  .  I'm  happy  too.  .  .  . 

Chubukov.  What  a  weight  ofi  my  shoulders.  .  .  .  Ouf! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  But  .  .  .  still  you  will  admit 
now  that  Guess  is  worse  than  Squeezer. 

LoMOV.  Better ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Worse ! 

Chubukov.  Well,  that's  a  way  to  start  your  family  bliss ! 
Have  some  champagne ! 

LoMOV.  He's  better ! 

Natalya  Stepanovna.  Worse  !   worse  !   worse  ! 

Chubukov.  [Trying  to  shout  her  doum]  Champagne  [ 
Champagne  1 

Curtain. 


THE   WEDDING 


CHARACTERS 

EvDOKiM  Zaharovitch  Zhigalov,  a  retired  Civil  Servant 

Nastasya  Timofeybvna,  his  wife 

Dashenka.  their  daughter 

Epaminond  Maximovitch  Aplombov,  Dashenka's  bride- 
groom 

Fyodor  Yakovlevitch  Revunov-Karaulov,  a  retired 
captain 

Andrey  Andreyevitch  Nu^ЧN,  an  insurance  agent 

Anna  Martinovna  Zmeyukina,  a  midwife,  aged  30,  in 
a  brilliantly  red  dress 

Ivan  Mihailovitch  Yats,  a  telegrafhist 

Harlampi  Spiridonovitch  Dimba,  a  Greek  confectioner 

Dmitri  Stepanovitch  Mozgovoy,  a  sailor  of  the  Imperial 
Navy  {Volunteer  Fleet) 

Groomsmen,  Gentlemen,  Waiters,  etc. 

The  scene  is  laid  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  Ayidronov's 
Restaurant 


THE    WEDDING 

A  brilliantly  illuminated  room .    A  large  table,  laid  for  siifper. 

Waiters  in  dress-jackets  are  fussing  round  the  table. 

An  orchestra  behind  the  scene  is  playing  the  music  of  the 

last  figure  of  a  quadrille. 
Anna  Martinovna  Zmeyueina,  Yats,  and  a  Groomsman 

cross  the  stage. 

Zmeyukina.  No,  no,  no  ! 

Yats.  [Following  her]  Have  pity  on  us !     Have  pity  I 

Zmeyukina.  No,  no,  no  ! 

Geoomsman.  [Chasing  them]  You  can't  go  on  like  this  ! 
Where  are  you  ofi  to  ?  What  about  the  grand  ronde  ? 
Grand  ronde,  s'iZ  vous  plait  !  [They  all  go  off. 

Enter  Nastasya  Timofeyevna  and  Aplombov. 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  You  had  much  better  be 
dancing  than  upsetting  me  with  your  speeches. 

Aplombov.  I'm  not  a  Spinosa  or  anybody  of  that  sort, 
to  go  making  figures- of-eight  v.dth  my  legs.  I  am  a  serious 
man,  and  I  have  a  character,  and  I  see  no  amusement  in 
empty  pleasures.  But  it  isn't  just  a  matter  of  dances. 
You  must  excuse  me,  maman,  but  there  is  a  good  deal  in 
your  behaviour  which  I  am  unable  to  understand.  For 
instance,  in  addition  to  objects  of  domestic  importance, 
you  promised  also  to  give  me,  with  your  daughter,  two 
lottery  tickets.     Where  are  they  ? 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  My  head's  aching  a  little  .  . 
61 


62  TIIEWEDDING 

I  expect  it's  on  account  of  the  weather.  ...  If  only  it 
thawed  ! 

Atlombov.  You  won't  get  out  of  it  like  that.  I  only 
found  out  to-day  that  those  tickets  are  in  pawn.  You 
must  excuse  me,  maman,  but  it's  only  swindlers  who  behave 
like  that.  I'm  not  doing  this  out  of  egoisticism  * — I  don't 
want  your  tickets — but  on  principle ;  and  I  don't  allow 
myself  to  be  done  by  anybody.  I  have  made  your  daughter 
happy,  and  if  you  don't  give  me  the  tickets  to-day  I'll 
make  short  work  of  her.     I'm  an  honourable  man  ! 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  [LooJcs  round  the  table  and 
counts  up  the  covers]  One,  two,  three,  four,  five  .  .  . 

A  Waiter.  The  cook  asks  if  you  would  like  the  ices 
served  with  rum,  madeira,  or  by  themselves  ? 

Aplombov.  With  rum.  And  tell  the  manager  that 
there's  not  enough  wine.  Tell  him  to  prepare  some  more 
Haut  Sauterne.  [To  Nastasya  Timofeyevna]  You  also 
promised  ал  1  agreed  that  a  general  was  to  be  here  to  supper 
And  where  is  he  ? 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  That  isn't  my  fault,  my  dear. 

Aplombov.  Whose  fault,  then  ? 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  It's  Andrey  Andreyevitch's 
fault.  .  .  .  Yesterday  he  came  to  see  us  and  promised  to 
bring  a  perfectly  real  general.  [Sighs]  I  suppose  he  couldn't 
find  one  anywhere,  or  he'd  have  brought  him.  .  .  .  You 
think  we  don't  mind  1  We'd  begrudge  our  child  nothing. 
A  general,  of  course  .  .  . 

Aplombov.  But  there's  more.  .  .  .  Everybody,  includ- 
ing yourself,  maman,  is  aware  of  the  fact  that  Yats,  that 
telegraphist,  was  after  Dashenka  before  I  proposed  to  her. 
Why  did  you  invite  him  ?  Surely  you  knew  it  would  be 
unpleasant  for  me  ? 

•  So  in  the  original. 


THE    WEDDING  63 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  Oh,  how  can  you  ?  Epami- 
nond  Maximovitch  was  married  himself  only  the  other 
day,  and  you've  already  tired  me  and  Dashenka  out  with 
your  talk.  What  will  you  be  like  in  a  year's  time  ?  You 
are  horrid,  really  horrid. 

Aplombov.  Then  you  don't  like  to  hear  the  truth  ?  Aha 
Oh,  oh  !  Then  behave  honourably.  I  only  want  you  to 
do  one  thing,  be  honourable  ! 

Coufles  dancing  the  grand  ronde  come  in  at  one  door 
and  out  at  the  other  end.  The  first  couple  are 
Dashenka  with  one  of  the  Groomsmen.  The  last 
are  Yats  and  Zmeyukina.  These  two  remain 
behind.  Zhigalov  and  Dimba  enter  and  go  up 
to  the  table. 
Groomsman.  [Shouting]  Promenade  !  Messieurs,  prome- 
nade !  {Behind]  Promenade  ! 

[The  dancers  have  all  left  the  scene. 
Yats.  [To  Zmeyukina]  Have  pity!  Have  pity,  adorable 
Anna  Martinovna. 

Zmeyukina.  Oh,  what  a  man !  .  .  .  I've  already  told 
you  that  I've  no  voice  to-day. 

Yats.  I  implore  you  to  sing !    Just  one  note !     Have 
pity  !    Just  one  note  ! 
Zmeyukina.  I'm  tired  of  you.  .  .  . 

[Sits  and  fans  herself. 
Yats.  No,  you're  simply  heartless !  To  be  so  cruel — 
if  I  may  express  myself — and  to  have  such  a  beauti- 
ful, beautiful  voice !  With  such  a  voice,  if  you  will 
forgive  my  using  the  word,  you  shouldn't  be  a  mid- 
wife, but  sing  at  concerts,  at  public  gatherings  !  For 
example,  how  divinely  you  do  that  fioritura  .  .  .  that 
.  .  .  [Sings]  "  I  loved  you  ;  love  was  vain  then.  .  .  ." 
Exquisite ' 


64  THE    WEDDING 

Zmeyukina.  [Sings]  "  I  loved  you,  and  may  love  again." 
Is  that  it  ? 

Yats.  That's  it !     Bpautiful ! 

Zmeyukina.  No,  I've  no  voice  to-day.  .  .  .  There,  wave 
this  fan  for  me  .  .  .  it's  hot !  [To  Aplombov]  Epaminond 
Maximovitch,  why  are  you  so  melancholy  ?  A  bridegroom 
shouldn't  be !  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  you 
wretch  ?     Well,  what  are  you  so  thoughtful  about  ? 

Aplombov.  Marriage  is  a  serious  step !  Everything 
must  be  considered  from  all  sides,  thoroughly. 

Zmeyukina.  What  beastly  sceptics  you  all  are  !  I  feel 
quite  suffocated  with  you  all  around.  .  .  .  Give  me  atmo- 
sphere 1     Do  you  hear  1     Give  me  atmosphere  ! 

[Sings  a  few  notes. 

Yats.  Beautiful !     Beautiful ! 

Zmeyukina.  Fan  me,  fan  me,  or  I  feel  I  shall  have  a 
heart  attack  in  a  minute.  Tell  me,  please,  why  do  I  feel 
so  suffocated  ? 

Yats.  It's  because  you're  sweating.  .  .  . 

Zmeyukina.  Foo,  how  vulgar  you  are !  Don't  dare  to 
use  such  words  ! 

Yats.  Beg  pardon !  Of  course,  you're  used,  if  I  may 
say  so,  to  aristocratic  society  and  .  . 

Zmeyukina.  Oh,  leave  me  alone  Give  me  poetry 
delight !     Fan  me,  fan  me  ! 

Zhigalov.  [To  Dimba]  Let's  have  another,  what  ? 
[Pours  out]  One  can  always  drink.  So  long  only,  Harlampi 
Spiridonovitch,  as  one  doesn't  forget  one's  business.  Drink 
and  be  merry.  .  .  .  And  if  you  can  drink  at  somebody 
else's  expense,  then  why  not  drink  ?  You  can  drink.  ,  .  . 
Your  health  !  [They  drink]  And  do  you  have  tigers  in 
Greece  ? 

Dimba.  Yea 


THE    WEDDING  65 

Zhigalov.  And  lions  ? 

DiMBA.  And  lions  too.  In  Russia  zere's  nussing,  and 
in  Greece  zere's  everysing — my  fazer  and  uncle  and 
brozeres — and  here  zere's  nussing. 

Zhigalov.  H'm.  .  .  .  And  are  there  whales  in  Greece  ? 

DiMBA.  Yes,  everysing. 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  [To  her  husband]  What  are 
they  all  eating  and  drinking  like  that  for  ?  It's  time  for 
everybody  to  sit  down  to  supper.  Don't  keep  on  shoving 
your  fork  into  the  lobsters.  .  .  .  They're  for  the  general. 
He  may  come  yet.  .  .  . 

Zhigalov.  And  are  there  lobsters  in  Greece  ? 

DiMBA.  Yes  .  .  .  zere  is  everysing. 

Zhigalov.  Hm.  .  .  .  And  Civil  Servants. 

Zmeyukina.  I  can  imagine  what  the  atmosphere  is  like 
in  Greece  1 

Zhigalov.  There  must  be  a  lot  of  swindling.  The 
Greeks  are  just  like  the  Armenians  or  gipsies.  They  sell 
you  a  sponge  or  a  goldfish  and  all  the  time  they  are  looking 
out  for  a  chance  of  getting  something  extra  out  of  you. 
Let's  have  another,  what  ? 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  What  do  you  want  to  go  on 
having  another  for  ?  It's  time  everybody  sat  down  to 
supper.     It's  past  eleven. 

Zhigalov.  If  it's  time,  then  it's  time.  Ladies  and 
gentlemen,    please  !  [Shouts]  Supper  !     Young    people  ! 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  Dear  visitors,  please  be 
seat  ed ! 

Zmeyukina.  [Sitting  down  at  the  table]  Give  me  poetry. 

"  And  he,  the  rebel,  seeks  the  storm, 
As  if  the  storm  can  give  him  peace." 

Give  me  the  storm  1 


66  THE    WEDDING 

Yat8.  [Aside]  Wonderful  woman!     I'm  in  love!     Up 
to  my  ears ! 

Enter  Dashenka,  Mozoovoy,  Groomsmen,  various 

ladies  and  gentlemen,  etc.    They  all  noisily  seat 

themselves  at  the  table.    There  is  a  minute's  pause, 

while  the  band  plays  a  march. 

MozGOVOY.  [Rising]  Ladies  and  gentlemen !     I   must 

tell  you  this.  .  .  .  We  arc  going  to  have  a  great  many 

toasts  and  speeches.    Don't  let's  wait,  but  begin  at  once. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  newly  married  ! 

The   band  plays   a  flourish.    Cheers.    Glasses   are 
touched.    Aplombov    and   Dashenka    kiss   each 
other. 
Yats.  Beautiful !    Beautiful !    I  must  say,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  giving  honour  where  it  is  due,  that  this  room 
and  the  accommodation  generally  are  splendid  I    Excel- 
lent, wonderful !     Only  you  know,  there's  one  thing  we 
haven't  got — electric  light,  if  I  may  say  so !    Into  every 
country  electric  light  has  already  been  introduced,  only 
Kussia  lags  behind. 

Zhiqalov.  [Meditatively]  Electricity  .  .  .  h'm.  ...  In 
my  opinion  electric  lighting  is  just  a  swindle.  .  .  .  They 
put  a  live  coal  in  and  think  you  don't  see  them !  No,  if 
you  want  a  light,  then  you  don't  take  a  coal,  but  something 
real,  something  special,  that  you  can  get  hold  of !  You 
must  have  a  fire,  you  understand,  which  is  natural,  not 
just  an  invention ! 

Yats.  If  you'd  ever  seen  an  electric  battery,  and  how 
it's  made  up,  you'd  think  differently. 

Zhiqalov.  Don't  want  to  see  one.  It's  a  swindle,  a  fraud 
on  the  public.  .  .  .  They  want  to  squeeze  our  last 
breath  out  of  us.  .  .  .  We  know  then,  these  .  .  .  And, 
young  man,  instead  of  defending  a  swindle,  you  would  be 


THE    WEDDING  67 

much  better  occupied  if  you  had  another  yourself  and 
poured  out  some  for  other  people — yes  ! 

Aplombov.  I  entirely  agree  with  you,  papa.  Why 
start  a  learned  discussion  ?  I  myself  have  no  objection  to 
talking  about  every  possible  scientific  discovery,  but  this 
isn't  the  time  for  all  that  1  [To  Dashenka]  What  do  you 
think,  ma  сЫге  ? 

Dashenka.  They  want  to  show  how  educated  they  are, 
and  so  they  always  talk  about  things  we  can't  understand. 

Nabtasya  Timofeyevna.  Thank  God,  we've  lived  our 
time  without  being  educated,  and  here  we  are  marrying 
ofi  our  third  daughter  to  an  honest  man.  And  if  you 
think  we're  uneducated,  then  what  do  you  want  to  come 
here  for  ?     Go  to  your  educated  friends  ! 

Yats.  I,  Nastasya  Timofeyevna,  have  always  held  your 
family  in  respect,  and  if  I  did  start  talking  about  electric 
lighting  it  doesn't  mean  that  I'm  proud.  I'll  drink,  to 
show  you.  I  have  always  sincerely  wished  Daria  Evdo- 
kimovna  a  good  husband.  In  these  days,  Nastasya  Timo- 
feyevna, it  is  difficult  to  find  a  good  husband.  Nowadays 
everybody  is  on  the  look-out  for  a  marriage  where  there  is 
profit,  money.  .  .  . 

Aplombov.  That's  a  hint ! 

Yats.  [His  courage  failing]  I  wasn't  hinting  at  anything. 
.  .  .  Present  company  is  always  excepted.  ...  I  was  .  .  . 
only  in  general.  .  .  .  Please !  Everybody  knows  that 
you're  marrying  for  love  .  .  .  the  dowry  is  quite  trifling. 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  No,  it  isn't  trifling  !  You  be 
careful  what  you  say.  Besides  a  thousand  roubles  of  good 
money,  we're  giving  three  dresses,  the  bed,  and  all  the 
furniture.  You  won't  find  another  dowry  like  that  in  a 
hurry  ! 

Yats    I  didn't  mean      -  ^  The  furniture's  splendid,  of 


68  THE    WEDDING 

course,  and  .  .  .  and  the  dresses,  but  I  never  hinted  at 
what  they  are  getting  offended  at. 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  Don't  you  go  making  hints. 
We  respect  you  on  account  of  your  parents,  and  we've 
invited  you  to  the  wedding,  and  here  you  go  talking.  If 
you  knew  that  Epaminond  Maximovitch  was  marrying  for 
profit,  why  didn't  you  say  so  before  ?  [Tearfully]  I  brought 
her  up,  I  fed  her,  I  nursed  her.  ...  I  cared  for  her  more 
than  if  she  was  an  emerald  jewel,  my  little  girl.  .  .  . 

Aplombov.  And  you  go  and  believe  him  ?  Thank  you 
80  much  !  I'm  very  grateful  to  you  !  [To  Yats]  And  as 
for  you,  Mr.  Yats,  although  you  are  acquainted  with  me, 
I  shan't  allow  you  to  behave  like  this  in  another's  house. 
Please  get  out  of  this  ! 

Yats.  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Aplombov.  I  want  you  to  be  as  straightforward  as  I  am  ! 
In  short,  please  get  out !  [Ba^id  flays  a  flourish 

The  Gentlemen.  Leave  him  alone  !  Sit  down  !  Is  it 
worth  it !     Let  him  be  !     Stop  it  now  ! 

Yats.  I  never  ...  I  ...  I  don't  understand.  .  .  . 
Please,  I'll  go.  .  .  .  Only  you  first  give  me  the  five  roubles 
which  you  borrowed  from  me  last  year  on  the  strength  of 
a  piqu6  waistcoat,  if  I  may  say  so.  Then  I'll  just  have 
another  drink  and  ...  go,  only  give  me  the  money  first. 

Various  Gentlemen.  Sit  down  !  That's  enough  !  Is 
it  worth  it,  just  for  such  trifles  ? 

A  Groomsman.  [Shouts]  The  health  of  the  bride's 
parents,  Evdokim  Zaharitch  and  Nastasya  Timofeyevna  ! 

[Band  plays  a  flourish.    Cheers. 

ZmGALOV.  [Bows  in  all  directions,  in  great  emotion]  I 
thank  you  !  Dear  guests  !  I  am  very  grateful  to  you  for 
not  having  forgotten  and  for  having  conferred  this  honour 
upon  us  without  being  standoffish      And  you  must  not 


THE   WEDDING  69 

think  that  I'm  a  rascal,  or  that  I'm  trying  to  swindle 
anybody.  I'm  speaking  from  my  heart — from  the  purity 
of  my  soul  1  I  wouldn't  deny  anything  to  good  people  ! 
We  thank  you  very  humbly !  [Kisses. 

Dashenka.  [To  her  mother]  Mama,  why  are  you  crying  ? 
I'm  so  happy  ! 

Aplombov.  Mamam  is  disturbed  at  your  coming  separa- 
tion. But  I  should  advise  her  rather  to  remember  the  last 
talk  we  had. 

Yats.  Don't  cry,  Nastasya  Timofeyevna  !  Just  think 
what  are  human  tears,  anyway  1  Just  petty  psychiatry, 
and  nothing  more  ! 

ZmGALOV.  And  are  there  any  red-haired  men  in  Greece  ? 

DiMBA.  Yes,  everysing  is  zere. 

Zhigalov.  But  you  don't  have  our  kinds  of  mushroom. 

DiMBA.  Yes,  we've  got  zem  and  everysing. 

MozGOVOY.  Harlampi  Spiridonovitch,  it's  your  turn  to 
speak  !    Ladies  and  gentlemen,  a  speech  ! 

All.  [To  Dimba]  Speech  !    speech  !     Your  turn  ! 

DiMBA.  Why  ?     I  don't  understand.  .  .  .  What  is  it ! 

Zmeyukina.  No,  no !  You  can't  refuse !  It's  you 
turn  1     Get  up  ! 

Dimba.  [Gets  up,  confused]  I  can't  say  what  .  .  .  Zere's 
Russia  and  zere's  Greece.  Zere's  people  in  Russia  and 
people  in  Greece.  .  .  .  And  zere's  people  swimming  the 
sea  in  karavs,  which  mean  sips,  and  people  on  the  land  in 
railway  trains.  I  understand.  We  are  Greeks  and  you 
are  Russians,  and  I  want  nussing.  ...  I  can  tell  you  .  .  . 
zere's  Russia  and  zere's  Greece  .  .  . 
Enter  NuNiN. 

NuNiN.  Wait,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  don't  eat  now ! 
Wait !  Just  one  minute,  Nastasya  Timofeyevna  !  Just 
come     here,    if    you     don't     mind !   [Takes     Nastasya 


70  THE    WEDDING 

TiMOFEYEVNA  aside,  pujfing]  Listen.  .  .  .  The  General's 
coming  ...  I  found  one  at  last.  .  .  .  I'm  simply  worn 
out.  ...  A  real  General,  a  solid  one — old,  you  know,  aged 
perhaps  eighty,  or  even  ninety. 

Nastasya  TiMOFEYEVNA.  When  is  he  coming  ? 

NuNiN.  This  minute.    You'll  be  grateful  to  me  all  your 
life.» 

Nastasya    Timofeyevna.  You're    not    deceiving  me, 
Audrey  darling  ? 

NuNiN.  Well,  now,  am  I  a  swindler  ?    You  needn't 
worry ! 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  [Sighs]  One  doesn't  like  to 
spend  money  for  nothing,  Audrey  darling  ! 

NuNiN.  Don't  you  worry !  He's  not  a  general,  he's  a 
dream  !  [Raises  Ms  voice]  I  said  to  him  :  "  You've  quite 
forgotten  us,  your  Excellency !  It  isn't  kind  of  your 
Excellency  to  forget  your  old  friends !  Nastasya  Timo- 
feyevna," I  said  to  him,  "  she's  very  annoyed  with  you 
about  it  1  "  [Goes  and  sits  at  the  table]  And  he  says  to  me  : 
"  But,  my  friend,  how  can  I  go  when  I  don't  know  the 
bridegroom  1  "  "  Oh,  nonsense,  your  excellency,  why 
stand  on  ceremony  ?  The  bridegroom,"  I  said  to  him, 
"  he's  a  fine  fellow,  very  free  and  easy.  He's  a  valuer," 
I  said,  "  at  the  Law  courts,  and  don't  you  think,  your 
excellency,  that  he's  some  rascal,  some  knave  of  hearts. 
Nowadays,"  I  said  to  him,  "  even  decent  women  are 
employed  at  the  Law  courts."  He  slapped  me  on  the 
shoulder,  we  smoked  a  Havana  cigar  each,  and  now  he's 
coming.  .  .  .  Wait  a  little,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  don't 
eat.  .  .  . 

*  A  few  lines  have  been  omitted :  they  refer  to  the  "  General's" 
rank  and  its  civil  equivalent  in  words  for  which  the  English  language 
has  no  corresponding  terms.  The  "  General "  is  an  ex-naval  officer, 
a  second-class  captain. 


THE    WEDDING  71 

Aplombov.  When's  he  coming  ? 

NuNiN.  This  minute.  When  I  left  him  he  was  akeady 
putting  on  his  goloshes.  Wait  a  little,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
don't  eat  yet. 

Aplombov.  The  band  should  be  told  to  play  a  march. 

NuNiN.  [Shouts]  Musicians  !    A  march  ! 

[The  band  flays  a  march  for  a  minute. 

A  Waiter.  Mr.  Eevunov-Karaulov  ! 

ZfflGALOv,   Nastasya  Timofeyevxa,   aiid  NuNIN 
run  to  meet  him.    Enter  Revunov-Kaeaulov. 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  [Bowing]  Please  come  in,  your 
excellency  !    So  glad  you've  come  ! 

Revunov.  Av?iully ! 

ZfflGALOV.  We,  your  excellency,  aren't  celebrities,  we 
aren't  important,  but  quite  ordinary,  but  don't  think  on 
that  account  that  there's  any  fraud.  We  put  good  people 
into  the  best  place,  we  begrudge  nothing.    Please ! 

Revunov.  Awfully  glad ! 

NuNiN.  Let  me  introduce  to  you,  your  excellency,  the 
bridegroom,  Epaminond  Maximovitch  Aplombov,  with  his 
newly  born  ...  I  mean  his  newly  married  wife!  Ivan 
Mihailovitch  Yats,  employed  on  the  telegraph  1  A  foreigner 
of  Greek  nationality,  a  confectioner  by  trade,  Harlampi 
Spiridonovitch  Dimba  !  Osip  Lukitch  Babelmandebsky  ! 
A.nd  80  on,  and  во  on.  .  .  .  The  rest  are  just  trash.  Sit 
down,  your  excellency ! 

Revunov.  Awfully  !  Excuse  me,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
I  just  want  to  say  two  words  to  Audrey.  [Takes  Nunin 
aside]  I  say,  old  man,  I'm  a  little  put  out.  .  .  .  Why  do 
you  call  me  your  excellency  1  I'm  not  a  general !  I 
don't  rank  as  the  equivalent  of  a  colonel,  even. 

Nunin.  [Whispers]  I  know,  only,  Fyodor  Yakovlevitch, 
be  a  good  man  and  let  us  call  you  your  excellency  !     The 


72  THE    WEDDING 

family  here,  you  see,  is  patriarchal ;  it  respects  the  aged, 
it  likes  rank. 

Eevunov.  Oh,  if  it's  like  that,  very  well.  .  .  .  [Goes 
to  the  table]  Awfully  ! 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  Sit  down,  your  excellency  I 
Be  so  good  as  to  have  some  of  this,  your  excellency  !  Only 
forgive  us  for  not  being  used  to  etiquette ;  we're  plain 
people ! 

Revunov.  [Not  hearing]  What  ?  Hm  .  .  .  yes.  [Pause] 
Yes.  ...  In  the  old  days  everybody  used  to  live  simply 
and  was  happy.  In  spite  of  my  rank,  I  am  a  man  who 
lives  plainly.  To-day  Andrey  comes  to  me  and  asks  me 
to  come  here  to  the  wedding.  "  How  shall  I  go,"  I  said, 
"  when  I  don't  know  them  1  It's  not  good  manners !  " 
But  he  says  :  "  They  are  good,  simple,  patriarchal  people, 
glad  to  see  anybody."  Well,  if  that's  the  case  .  .  .  why 
not  ?  Very  glad  to  come.  It's  very  dull  for  me  at  home 
by  myself,  and  if  my  presence  at  a  wedding  can  make 
anybody  happy,  then  I'm  delighted  to  be  here.  .  .  . 

ZmGALOV.  Then  that's  sincere,  is  it,  your  excellency  ? 
I  respect  that !  I'm  a  plain  man  myself,  without  any 
deception,  and  I  respect  others  who  are  like  that.  Eat, 
your  excellency ! 

Aplombov.  Is  it  long  since  you  retired,  your  excellency  ? 

Revunov.  Eh  ?  Yes,  yes.  .  .  .  Quite  true.  Yes.  .  .  . 
But,  excuse  me,  what  is  this  ?  The  fish  is  sour  .  .  .  and 
the  bread  is  sour.  I  can't  eat  this !  [Aplombov  and 
Dashenka  kiss  each  other]  He,  he,  he  .  .  .  Your  health  ! 
[Pause]  Yes.  ...  In  the  old  days  everything  was  simple 
and  everybody  was  glad.  ...  I  love  simplicity.  .  .  I'm 
an  old  man.  I  retired  in  1865.  I'm  72.  Yes,  of  course, 
in  my  younger  days  it  was  different,  but —  [Sees  Mozgovoy] 
You  there  •  .      a  sailor,  are  you  ? 


THE   WEDDING  73 

MozGOVOY.  Yes,  just  so. 

Revunov.  Aha,  so  .  .  .  yes.  The  navy  means  hard 
work.  There's  a  lot  to  think  about  and  get  a  headache 
over.  Every  insignificant  word  has,  so  to  speak,  its  special 
meaning  !  For  instance,  "  Hoist  her  top-sheets  and  main- 
sail !  "  What's  it  mean  ?  A  sailor  can  tell !  He,  he  ! — 
With  almost  mathematical  precision  ! 

NuNiN.  The  health  of  his  excellency  Fy odor  Yakovlevitch 
Revunov-Karaulov  !  [Band  plays  a  flourish.    Cheers. 

Yats.  You,  your  excellency,  have  just  expressed  yourself 
on  the  subject  of  the  hard  work  involved  in  a  naval  career. 
But  is  telegraphy  any  easier  ?  Nowadays,  your  excel- 
lency, nobody  is  appointed  to  the  telegraphs  if  he  cannot 
read  and  write  French  and  German.  But  the  transmission 
of  telegrams  is  the  most  difficult  thing  of  all.  Awfully 
difficult !     Just  listen. 

Taps  with  his  fork  on  the  table,  like  a  telegraphic 
transmitter. 

Revunov.  What  does  that  mean  ? 

Yats.  It  means,  "  I  honour  you,  your  excellency,  for 
your  virtues."    You  think  it's  easy  ?     Listen  now.  [Taps. 

Revunov.  Louder ;  I  can't  hear.  .  .  . 

Yats.  That  means,  "  Madam,  how  happy  I  am  to  hold 
you  in  my  embraces  !  " 

Revunov.  What  madam  are  you  talking  about?  Yes. 
.  .  .  [To  Mozgovoy]  Yes,  if  there's  a  head-wind  you 
must  .  .  .  let's  see  .  .  .  you  must  hoist  your  foretop 
halyards  and  topsail  halyards  !  The  order  is  :  "  On  the 
cross-trees  to  the  foretop  halyards  and  topsail  halyards  " 
.  .  .  and  at  the  same  time,  as  the  sails  get  loose,  you  take 
hold  underneath  of  the  foresail  and  fore-topsail  halyards, 
stays  and  braces. 

A  Groomsman.  [Rising]  Ladies  and  gentlemen  .  .  . 


74  THE    WEDDING 

Revunov.  [Cutting  him  short]  Yes  .  .  there  are  a 
great  many  orders  to  give.  "  Furl  the  fore-topsail  and  the 
fore-top-gallant  sail !  1  "  Well,  what  does  that  mean  ? 
It's  very  simple  1  It  means  that  if  the  top  and  top-gallant 
sails  are  lifting  the  halyards,  they  must  level  the  foretop 
and  foretop-gallant  halyards  on  the  hoist  and  at  the  same 
time  the  top-gallants  braces,  as  needed,  are  loosened  accord- 
jig  to  the  direction  of  the  wind  .  .  . 

NuNiN.  [To  Revunov]  Fyodor  Yakovlevitch,  Mme. 
Zhigalov  asks  you  to  talk  about  something  else.  It's  very 
dull  for  the  guests,  who  can't  understand.  .  .  . 

Revunov.  What?  Who's  dull?  [To  Mozqovoy]  Young 
man  !  Now  suppose  the  ship  is  lying  by  the  wind,  on  the 
starboard  tack,  under  full  sail,  and  you've  got  to  bring 
her  before  the  wind.  What's  the  order  ?  Well,  first 
you  whistle  up  above  !    He,  he  ! 

NuNiN.  Fyodor  Yakovlevitch,  that's  enough.  Eatsome- 
thing. 

Revunov.  As  soon  as  the  men  are  on  deck  you  give  the 
order, "  To  your  places  !  "  What  a  life  I  You  give  orders, 
and  at  the  same  time  you've  got  to  keep  your  eyes  on  the 
sailors,  who  run  about  like  flashes  of  lightning  and  get  the 
sails  and  braces  right.  And  at  last  you  can't  restrain 
yourself,  and  you  shout,  "  Good  children  !  " 

[He  chokes  and  coughs. 

A  Groomsman.  [МаЫпд  haste  to  use  the  ensuing  pause  to 
advantage]  On  this  occasion,  so  to  speak,  on  the  day  on 
which  we  have  met  together  to  honour  our  dear  .  .  . 

Revunov.  [Interru'pti7ig]  Yes,  you've  got  to  remember 
all  that !  For  instance,  "  Hoist  the  topsail  halyards. 
Lower  the  topsail  gallants  1  " 

The  Groomsman.  [Annoyed]  Why  does  he  keep  on  inter- 
rupting ?     We  shan't  get  through  a  single  speech  like  that ! 


THE    WEDDING  75 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  We  are  dull  people,  your 
excellency,  and  don't  understand  a  word  of  all  that,  but 
if  you  were  to  tell  us  something  appropriate  .  .  . 

Revunov.  [Not  hearing]  I've  already  had  supper,  thank 
you.  Did  you  say  there  was  goose  ?  Thanks  .  .  .  yes. 
I've  remembered  the  old  days.  .  .  .  It's  pleasant,  young 
man  !  You  sail  on  the  sea,  you  have  no  worries,  and  .  .  . 
[In  an  excited  tone  of  voice]  do  you  remember  the  joy  of 
tacking  ?  Is  there  a  sailor  who  doesn't  glow  at  the  memory 
of  that  manoeuvre  ?  As  soon  as  the  word  is  given  and  the 
whistle  blown  and  the  crew  begins  to  go  up — it's  as  if  an 
electric  spark  has  run  through  them  all.  From  the  captain 
to  the  cabin-boy,  everybody's  excited. 

Zmeyukina.  How  dull !    How  dull ! 

[General  murmur. 

Revunov.  [Who  has  not  heard  it  froperly]  Thank  you, 
I've  had  supper.  [With  enthusiasm]  Everybody's  ready, 
and  looks  to  the  senior  officer.  He  gives  the  command : 
"  Stand  by,  gallants  and  topsail  braces  on  the  starboard 
side,  main  and  counter-braces  to  port ! "  Everything's 
done  in  a  twinkling.    Top-sheets  and  jib-sheets  are  pulled 

.  .  taken  to  starboard.  [Stands  up]  The  ship  takes  the 
wind  and  at  last  the  sails  fill  out.  The  senior  officer  orders, 
"  To  the  braces,"  and  himself  keeps  his  eye  on  the  main- 
sail, and  when  at  last  this  sail  is  filling  out  and  the  ship 
begins  to  turn,  he  yells  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "  Let  go 
the  braces !  Loose  the  main  halyards  !  "  Everything 
flies  about,  there's  a  general  confusion  for  a  moment — 
and  everything  is  done  without  an  error.  The  ship  has 
been  tacked ! 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  [Exploding]  General,  your 
manners.  .  .  .  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  at 
your  age ! 


76  THE    WEDDING 

Revunov.  Did  you  say  sausage  ?  No,  I  haven't  had 
any  .  .  .  thank  you. 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  [Loudly]  I  say  you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself  at  your  age  !  General,  your  manners 
are  awful ! 

NuNiN.  [Confused]  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  it  worth 
it?     Really  .  .  . 

Revunov.  In  the  first  place,  I'm  not  a  general,  but  a 
second-class  naval  captain,  which,  according  to  the  table 
of  precedence,  corresponds  to  a  lieutenant-colonel. 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  If  you're  not  a  general,  then 
what  did  you  go  and  take  our  money  for  ?  We  never  paid 
you  money  to  behave  like  that ! 

Revunov.  [Upset]  What  money  ? 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  You  know  what  money.  You 
know  that  you  got  25  roubles  from  Audrey  Andreyevitch. 
.  .  .  [To  Nunin]  And  you  look  out,  Andrey  !  I  never 
asked  you  to  hire  a  man  like  that ! 

Nunin.  There  now  ...  let  it  drop.     Is  it  worth  it  ? 

Revunov.  Paid  .  .  .  hired.  .  .  .  What  is  it  ? 

Aplombov.  Just  let  me  ask  you  this.  Did  you  receive 
25  roubles  from  Andrey  Andreyevitch  ? 

Revunov.  What  25  roubles  ?  [Suddenly  realizing]  That's 
what  it  is  !  Now  I  understand  it  all.  .  .  .  How  mean ! 
How  mean  ! 

Aplombov.  Did  you  take  the  money  ? 

Revunov.  I  haven't  taken  any  money  !  Get  away  from 
me  !  [Leaves  the  table]  How  mean  !  How  low  !  To  insult 
an  old  man,  a  sailor,  an  officer  who  has  served  long  and 
faithfully  !  If  you  were  decent  people  I  could  call  some- 
body out,  but  what  can  I  do  now  ?  [Absently]  Where's  the 
door  ?  Which  way  do  I  go  ?  Waiter,  show  me  the  way 
out !     Waiter  !  [Going]  How  mean  !     How  low  !      [Exit. 


THE    WEDDING  7T 

Nastasya  Timofeyevna.  Andrey,  where  are  those  25 
roubles  ? 

NuNiN»  Is  it  worth  while  bothering  about  such  trifles  ? 
What  does  it  matter  !  Everybody's  happy  here,  and  here 
you  go.  .  .  .  [Shouts]  The  health  of  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom !  A  march  !  A  march  !  [The  band  plays  a  inarch] 
The  health  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom  ! 

Zmeyukina.  I'm  suffocating!  Give  me  atmosphere  I 
I'm  suffocating  with  you  all  round  me  ! 

Yats.  [In  a  transport  of  delight]  My  beauty !  My 
beauty !  [Uproar. 

AGroomsman.  [Trying  to  shouteverybody  else  down]  Ladies 
and  gentlemen  !     On  this  occasion,  if  I  may  say  so  .  . 

Gurtain. 


THE  BEAR 


CHARACTERS 

Elena  Ivanovna  Popova,  a  landowning  little  tcidow, 
with  dimples  on  her  cheeks 

Grigory    Stepanovitch    Smirnov,    a    middle-aged 
landowner 

LuEA,  Popova's  aged/ootman 


THE   BEAli 

A  drawing-room  in  Popova's  house. 

PoPOVA  is  in  deep  mourning  and  has  her  eyes  fixed  on  a 
photograph.    Luka  is  haranguing  her. 

LuKA.  It  isn't  right,  madam.  .  .  .  You're  just  destroy- 
ing yourself.  The  maid  and  the  cook  have  gone  off  fruit 
picking,  every  living  being  is  rejoicing,  even  the  cat  under- 
stands how  to  enjoy  herself  and  walks  about  in  the  yard, 
catching  midges ;  only  you  sit  in  this  room  all  day,  as  if 
this  was  a  convent,  and  don't  take  any  pleasure.  Yes, 
really !  I  reckon  it's  a  whole  year  that  you  haven't  left 
the  house ! 

PoPOVA.  I  shall  never  go  out.  .  .  .  Why  should  I  ? 
My  life  is  already  at  an  end.  He  is  in  his  grave,  and 
I  have  buried  myself  between  four  walls.  .  .  .  We  are 
both  dead. 

Luka.  Well,  there  you  are  !  Nicolai  Mihailovitch  is 
dead,  well,  it's  the  will  of  God,  and  may  his  soul  rest  in 
peace.  .  .  .  You've  mourned  him — and  quite  right.  But 
you  can't  go  on  weeping  and  wearing  mourning  for  ever. 
My  old  woman  died  too,  when  her  time  came.  Well  ? 
I  grieved  over  her,  I  wept  for  a  month,  and  that's  enough 
for  her,  but  if  I've  got  to  weep  for  a  whole  age,  well,  the 
old  woman  isn't  worth  it.  [Sighs]  You've  forgotten  all 
your  neighboiirs.     You  don't  go  anywhere,  and  you  see 

81  F 


82  THE    BEAR 

nobody.  Wo  live,  so  to  speak,  like  spiders,  and  never  see 
the  light.  The  mice  have  eaten  my  livery.  It  isn't  as 
if  there  were  no  good  people  around,  for  the  district's  full 
of  them.  There's  a  regiment  quartered  at  Riblov,  andthe 
officers  are  such  beauties — you  can  never  gaze  your  fill 
at  them.  And,  every  Friday,  there's  a  ball  at  the  camp, 
and  every  day  the  soldier's  band  plays.  .  .  .  Eh,  my 
lady  !  You're  young  and  beautiful,  with  roses  in  your 
cheek — if  you  only  took  a  little  pleasure.  Beauty  won't 
last  long,  you  know.  In  ten  years'  time  you'll  want  to 
be  a  pea-hen  yourself  among  the  officers,  but  they  won't 
look  at  you,  it  will  be  too  late. 

PoPOVA.  [With  determination]  I  must  ask  you  never 
to  talk  to  me  about  it !  You  know  that  when  Nicolai 
Mihailovitch  died,  life  lost  all  its  meaning  for  me.  I  vowed 
never  to  the  end  of  my  days  to  cease  to  wear  mourning, 
or  to  see  the  light.  .  .  .  You  hear  ?  Let  his  ghost  see 
how  well  I  love  him.  .  .  .  Yes,  I  know  it's  no  secret  to 
you  that  he  was  often  unfair  to  me,  cruel,  and  .  .  .  and 
even  unfaithful,  but  I  shall  be  true  till  death,  and  show 
him  how  I  can  love.  There,  beyond  the  grave,  he  will  see 
me  as  I  was  before  his  death.  .  .  . 

LuKA.  Instead  of  talking  like  that  you  ought  to  go  and 
have  a  walk  in  the  garden,  or  else  order  Toby  or  Giant 
to  be  harnessed,  and  then  drive  out  to  see  some  of  the 
neighbours. 

PopovA.  Oh!  [Weeps. 

LuKA.  Madam !  Dear  madam !  What  is  it  ?  Bless 
you! 

PopovA.  He  was  so  fond  of  Toby  !  He  always  used  to 
ride  on  him  to  the  Korchagins  and  Vlasovs.  How  well 
he  could  ride  !  What  grace  there  was  in  his  figure  when 
he  pulled  at  the  reins  with  all  his  strength  !     Do  you 


THEBEAR  83 

remember  ?     Toby,  Toby  !     Tell  them  to  give  him  an  extra 
feed  of  oats. 

LuKA.  Yes,  madam.  [Л  bell  rings  noisily. 

PoPOVA.  [Shaking]  Who's  that  ?  Tell  them  that  I 
receive  nobody. 

LuKA.  Yes,  madam.  [Exit. 

PoPOVA.  [Looks  at  the  photograph]  You  will  see,  Nicolas, 
how  I  can  love  and  forgive.  .  .  .  My  love  will  die  out  with 
me,  only  when  this  poor  heart  will  cease  to  beat.  [Laughs 
through  her  tears]  And  aren't  you  ashamed  ?  I  am  a  good 
and  virtuous  little  wife.  I've  locked  myself  in,  and  will 
be  true  to  you  till  the  grave,  and  you  .  .  .  aren't  you 
ashamed,  you  bad  child  ?  You  deceived  me,  had  rows 
with  me,  left  me  alone  for  weeks  on  end  .... 
LuKA  enters  in  consternation. 

LuKA.  Madam,  somebody  is  asking  for  you.  He  wants 
to  see  you.  .  .  . 

PoPOVA.  But  didn't  you  tell  him  that  since  the  death 
of  my  husband  I've  stopped  receiving  ? 

LuKA.  I  did,  but  he  wouldn't  even  listen ;  says  that 
it's  a  very  pressing  afiair. 

PopovA.  I  do  not  re-ceive  ! 

LuKA.  I  told  him  so,  but  the  .  .  .  the  devil  .  .  .  curses 
and  pushes  himself  right  in.  .  .  .  He's  in  the  dining-room 
now. 

PopovA.  [Annoyed]  Very  well,  ask  him  in.  .  .  .  What 
manners  1  [Exit  Luka]  How  these  people  annoy  me ! 
What  does  he  want  of  me  ?  Why  should  he  disturb  my 
peace  ?  [Sighs]  No,  I  see  that  I  shall  have  to  go  into  a 
convent  after  all.  [Thoughtfully]  Yes,  into  a  convent.  .  .  . 
[Enter  Luka  with  Smirnov. 

Smirnov.  [To  Luka]  You  fool,  you're  too  fond  of 
talking,  .  .  .  Ass !  [Sees  Popova  and  speaks  with  respect] 


84  THEBEAR 

Madam,  I  have  the  honour  to  present  myself,  I  am  Grigory 
Stepanovitch  Smirnov,  landowner  and  retired  lieutenant 
of  artillery  !  I  am  compelled  to  disturb  you  on  a  very 
pressing  affair. 

PoPOVA.   [Not  giving  him  her  hand]  What  do  you  want  ? 

Smirnov.  Your  late  husband,  with  whom  I  had  the 
honour  of  being  acquainted,  died  in  my  debt  for  one 
thousand  two  hundred  roubles,  on  two  bills  of  exchange. 
As  I've  got  to  pay  the  interest  on  a  mortgage  to-morrow, 
I've  come  to  ask  you,  madam,  to  pay  me  the  money  to-day 

PopovA.  One  thousand  two  hundred.  .  .  .  And  what 
was  my  husband  in  debt  to  you  for  ? 

Smirnov.  He  used  to  buy  oats  from  me. 

PoPOVA.  [Sighing,  to  Luka]  So  don't  you  forget,  Luka, 
to  give  Toby  an  extra  feed  of  oats.  [Exit  Luka]  If  Nicolai 
Mihailovitch  died  in  debt  to  you,  then  I  shall  certainly  pay 
you,  but  you  must  excuse  me  to-day,  as  I  haven't  any 
spare  cash.  The  day  after  to-morrow  my  steward  will 
be  back  from  town,  and  I'll  give  him  instructions  to  settle 
your  account,  but  at  the  moment  I  cannot  do  as  you 
wish.  .  .  .  Moreover,  it's  exactly  seven  months  to-day  since 
the  death  of  my  husband,  and  I'm  in  a  state  of  mind  which 
absolutely  prevents  me  from  giving  money  matters  my 
attention. 

Smirnov.  AndI'minastateof  mind  which,if  I  don't  pay 
the  interest  due  to-morrow,  will  force  me  to  make  a  graceful 
exit  from  this  life  feet  first.     They'll  take  my  estate  ! 

PoPOVA.  You'll  have  your  money  the  day  after  to-morrow. 

Smirnov.  I  don't  want  the  money  the  day  after  to- 
morrow, I  want  it  to-day. 

PopovA.  You  must  excuse  me,   I  can't  pay  you. 

Smirnov.  And  I  can't  wait  till  after  to-morrow. 

PopovA.  Well,  what  can  I  do,  if  I  haven't  the  money  now ! 


THEBEAR  85 

Smirnov.  You  mean  to  say,  you  can't  pay  me  ? 

PopovA.  I  can't. 

Smirnov.  Hm  !    Is  that  the  last  word  you've  got  to  say  ? 

PopovA.  Yes,  the  last  word. 

Smirnov.  The  last  word  ?     Absolutely  your  last  ? 

PopovA.  Absolutely. 

Smirnov.  Thank  you  so  much.  I'll  make  a  note  of  it. 
[Shrugs  his  shoulders]  And  then  people  want  me  to  keep 
calm  !  I  meet  a  man  on  the  road,  and  he  asks  me  : 
"  Why  are  you  always  so  angry,  Grigory  Stepanovitch  1  '' 
But  how  on  earth  am  I  not  to  get  angry  ?  I  want  the 
money  desperately.  I  rode  out  yesterday,  early  in  the 
morning,  and  called  on  all  my  debtors,  and  not  a  single 
one  of  them  paid  up  !  I  was  just  about  dead-beat  after 
it  all,  slept,  goodness  knows  where,  in  some  inn,  kept  by 
a  Jew,  with  a  vodka-barrel  by  my  head.  At  last  I  get 
here,  seventy  versts  from  home,  and  hope  to  get  some- 
thing, and  I  am  received  by  you  with  a  "  state  of  mind  "  ! 
How  shouldn't  I  get  angry. 

PoPOVA.  I  thought  I  distinctly  said  my  steward  will 
pay  you  when  he  returns  from  town. 

Smirnov.  I  didn't  come  to  your  steward,  but  to  you ! 
What  the  devil,  excuse  my  saying  so,  have  I  to  do  with 
your  steward  ! 

PopovA.  Excuse  me,  sir,  I  am  not  accustomed  to  listen 
to  such  expressions  or  to  such  a  tone  of  voice.  I  want  to 
hear  no  more.  [Makes  a  rapid  exit. 

Smirnov.  Well,  there  !  "  A  state  of  mind."  ..."  Hus- 
band died  seven  months  ago  !  "  Must  I  pay  the  interest, 
or  mustn't  I  ?  I  ask  you :  Must  I  pay,  or  must  I  not  ? 
Suppose  your  husband  is  dead,  and  you've  got  a  state  of 
mind,  and  nonsense  of  that  sort.  .  .  .  And  your  steward's 
gone  away  somewhere,  devil  take  him,  what  do  you  wan 


86  THEBEAR 

me  to  do  ?  Do  you  think  I  can  fly  away  from  my  creditors 
in  a  balloon,  or  what  ?  Or  do  you  expect  me  to  go  and 
run  my  head  into  a  brick  wall  ?  I  go  to  Grusdev  and  he 
isn't  at  home,  Yaroshevitch  has  hidden  himself,  I  had 
a  violent  row  with  Kuritsin  and  nearly  threw  him  out  of 
the  window,  Mazugo  has  something  the  matter  with  his 
bowels,  and  this  woman  has  "  a  state  of  mind."  Not  one 
of  the  swine  wants  to  pay  me !  Just  because  I'm  too 
gentle  with  them,  because  I'm  a  rag,  just  weak  wax  in 
their  hands !  I'm  much  too  gentle  with  them !  Well, 
just  you  wait !  You'll  find  out  what  I'm  like  !  I  shan't 
let  you  play  about  with  me,  confound  it  I  I  shall  jolly 
well  stay  here  until  she  pays !  Brr !  .  .  .  How  angry 
I  am  to-day,  how  angry  I  am  !  All  my  inside  is  quivering 
with  anger,  and  I  can't  even  breathe.  .  .  .  Foo,  my  word, 
I  even  feel  sick  !  [  Yells]  Waiter  ! 
Enter  LuKA. 

LuKA.  What  is  it  ? 

Smiknov.  Get  me  some  kvass  or  water !  [Exit  Luka] 
What  a  way  to  reason !  A  man  is  in  desperate  need  of 
his  money,  and  she  won't  pay  it  because,  you  see,  she  is 
not  disposed  to  attend  to  money  matters !  .  ,  .  That's 
real  silly  feminine  logic.  That's  why  I  never  did  like, 
and  don't  like  now,  to  have  to  talk  to  women.  I'd  rather 
sit  on  a  barrel  of  gunpowder  than  talk  to  a  woman. 
Brr !  .  .  .  I  feel  quite  chilly — and  it's  all  on  account  of 
that  little  bit  of  flufi  1  I  can't  even  see  one  of  these 
poetic  creatures  from  a  distance  without  breaking  out  into 
a  cold  sweat  out  of  sheer  anger.  I  can't  look  at  them. 
[E7iter  Luka  with  water. 

Luka.  Madam  is  ill  and  will  see  nobody. 

Smirnov.  Get  out !    [Exit  Luka]  111  and  will  see  no- 
body 1     No,  it's  all  right,  you  don't  see  me.  .  .  .  I'm 


THEBEAR  87 

going  to  stay  and  will  sit  here  till  you  give  me  the  money. 
You  can  be  ill  for  a  week,  if  you  like,  and  I'll  stay  here 
for  a  week.  ...  If  you're  ill  for  a  year — I'll  stay  for  a 
year.  I'm  going  to  get  my  own,  my  dear  !  You  don't 
get  at  me  with  your  widow's  weeds  and  your  dimpled 
cheeks !  I  know  those  dimples !  [Shouts  through  the 
window]  Simeon,  take  them  out !  We  aren't  going  away 
at  once  !  I'm  staying  here  !  Tell  them  in  the  stable  to 
give  the  horses  some  oats  !  You  fool,  you've  let  the  near 
horse's  leg  get  tied  up  in  the  reins  again !  [Teasingly] 
"  Never  mind.  .  .  ."  I'll  give  it  you.  "  Never  mind." 
[Goes  away  from  the  window]  Oh,  it's  bad.  .  .  .  The  heat's 
frightful,  nobody  pays  up.  I  slept  badly,  and  on  top  of 
everything  else  here's  a  bit  of  fluff  in  mourning  with  "  a 
state  of  mind."  .  .  .  My  head's  aching.  .  .  .  Shall  I  have 
some  vodka,  what  ?  Yes,  I  think  I  will.  [  Yells]  Waiter  ! 
Enter  LuKA. 

LuKA.  What  is  it  ? 

Smirnov.  a  glass  of  vodka  !  [Exit  Luka]  Ouf !  [Sits 
and  inspects  himself]  I  must  say  I  look  well !  Dust  all 
over,  boots  dirty,  unwashed,  unkempt,  straw  on  my 
waistcoat.  .  .  .  The  dear  lady  may  well  have  taken  me 
for  a  brigand.  [Yawns]  It's  rather  impolite  to  come  into 
a  drawing-room  in  this  state,  but  it  can't  be  helped.  .  .  . 
I  am  not  here  as  a  visitor,  but  as  a  creditor,  and  there's 
no  dress  specially  prescribed  for  creditors.  .  .  . 
Enter  Luka  with  the  vodka. 

Luka.  You  allow  yourself  to  go  very  far,  sir.  .  .  , 

Smirnov.  [Angrily]  What  ? 

Luka.  I  .  .  .  er  .  .  .  nothing  ...  I  really  .  .  . 

Smirnov.  Whom  are  you  talking  to  1     Shut  up  ! 

Luka.  [Aside]  The  devil's  come  to  stay.  .  -  .  Bad  luck 
that  brought  him.  .  .  .  [Exit. 


88  THEBEAR 

Smirnov.  Oh,  how  angry  I  am  !     So  angry  that  I  think 
I  could  grind  the  whole  world  to  dust.  ...  I  even  feel 
sick.  .  ■     [Yells]  Waiter! 
Enter  PopovA. 

PoPOVA.  [Her  eyes  downcast]  Sir,  in  my  solitude  I  have 
grown  unaccustomed  to  the  masculine  voice,  and  I  can't 
stand  shouting.     I  must  ask  you  not  to  disturb  my  peace. 

Smirnov.  Pay  me  the  money,  and  I'll  go. 

PopovA.  I  told  you  perfectly  plainly ;  I  haven't  any 
money  to  spare  ;  wait  until  the  day  after  to-morrow. 

Smirnov.  And  I  told  you  perfectly  plainly  I  don't  want 
the  money  the  day  after  to-morrow,  but  to-day.  If  you 
don't  pay  mc  to-day,  I'll  have  to  hang  myself  to-morrow. 

PopovA.  But  what  can  I  do  if  I  haven't  got  the  money  ? 
You're  so  strange  ! 

Smirnov.  Then  you  won't  pay  me  now  ?     Eh  ? 

PoPOVA.  I  can't.  .  .  . 

Smirnov.  In  that  case  I  stay  here  and  shall  wait  until 
I  get  it.  [Sits  down]  You're  going  to  pay  me  the  day  after 
to-morrow  ?  Very  well !  I'll  stay  here  until  the  day 
after  to-morrow.  I'll  sit  here  all  the  time.  .  .  .  [Jumps 
up]  I  ask  you  :  Have  I  got  to  pay  the  interest  to-morrow, 
or  haven't  I  ?     Or  do  you  think  I'm  doing  this  for  a  joke  ? 

PopovA.  Please  don't  shout       This  isn't  a  stable  ! 

Smirnov.  I  wasn't  asking  you  about  a  stable,  but 
whether  I'd  got  my  interest  to  pay  to-morrow  or  not  ? 

PoPOVA.  You  don't  know  how  to  behave  before  women  ! 

Smirnov.  No,  I  do  know  how  to  behave  before  women  ! 

PopovA.  No,  you  don't !  You're  a  rude,  ill-bred  man  ! 
Decent  people  don't  talk  to  a  woman  like  that ! 

Smirnov.  What  a  business  !  How  do  you  want  me  to 
talk  to  you  1  In  French,  or  what  ?  [Loses  his  temper  and 
lisps]  Madame,  je  vous  prie.  .  .  .  How  happy    lam  that 


THEBEAR  89 

you  don't  pay  me.  .  .  .  Ah,  pardon.  I  have  disturbed 
you !  Such  lovely  weather  to-day  !  And  how  well  you 
look  in  mourning  !  [Bows. 

PopovA.  That's  silly  and  rude. 

Smirnov.  [Teasing  her]  Silly  and  rude !  I  don't  know 
how  to  behave  before  women  !  Madam,  in  my  time  I've 
seen  more  women  than  you've  seen  sparrows !  Three 
times  I've  fought  duels  on  account  of  women.  I've  refused 
twelve  women,  and  nine  have  refused  me  !  Yes !  There 
was  a  time  when  I  played  the  fool,  scented  myself,  used 
honeyed  words,  wore  jewellery,  made  beautiful  bows.  .  . 
I  used  to  love,  to  sufier,  to  sigh  at  the  moon,  to  get  sour, 
to  thaw,  to  freeze.  ...  I  used  to  love  passionately,  madly, 
every  blessed  way,  devil  take  me ;  I  used  to  chatter  like 
a  magpie  about  emancipation,  and  wasted  half  my  wealth 
on  tender  feelings,  but  now — you  must  excuse  me  !  You 
won't  get  round  me  like  that  now  !  I've  had  enough  ! 
Black  eyes,  passionate  eyes,  ruby  lips,  dimpled  cheeks, 
the  moon,  whispers,  timid  breathing — I  wouldn't  give  a 
brass  farthing  for  the  lot,  madam  !  Present  company 
always  excepted,  all  women,  great  or  little,  are  insincere, 
crooked,  backbiters,  envious,  liars  to  the  marrow  of  their 
bones,  vain,  trivial,  merciless,  unreasonable,  and,  as  far 
as  this  is  concerned  [taps  his  forehead]  excuse  my  out- 
spokenness, a  sparrow  can  give  ten  points  to  any  philo- 
sopher in  petticoats  you  like  to  name  !  You  look  at  one 
of  these  poetic  creatures  :  all  muslin,  an  ethereal  demi- 
goddess,  you  have  a  million  transports  of  joy,  and  you 
look  into  her  soul — and  see  a  common  crocodile  !  [He  grips 
the  bach  of  a  chair ;  the  chair  creaks  and  breaks]  But  the 
most  disgusting  thing  of  all  is  that  this  crocodile  for  some 
reason  or  other  imagines  that  its  chef  d'oeuvre,  its  privilege 
and  monopoly,  is  its  tender  feelings.     Why,  confound  it, 


90  THE    BEAR 

hang  me  on  that  nail  feet  upwards,  if  you  like,  but  have 
you  met  a  woman  who  can  love  anybody  except  a  lapdog  1 
When  she's  in  love,  can  she  do  anything  but  snivel  and 
slobber  ?  While  a  man  is  suffering  and  making  sacrifices 
all  her  love  expresses  itself  in  her  playing  about  with  her 
scarf,  and  trying  to  hook  him  more  firmly  by  the  nose. 
You  have  the  misfortune  to  be  a  woman,  you  know  from 
yourself  what  is  the  nature  of  woman.  Tell  me  truth- 
fully, have  you  ever  seen  a  woman  who  was  sincere,  faith- 
ful, and  constant  ?  You  haven't  1  Only  freaks  and  old 
women  are  faithful  and  constant !  You'll  meet  a  cat 
with  a  horn  or  a  white  woodcock  sooner  than  a  constant 
woman ! 

POPOVA.  Then,  according  to  you,  who  is  faithful  and 
constant  in  love  ?     Is  it  the  man  ? 

Smirnov.  Yes,  the  man  ! 

PopovA.  The  man !  [Laughs  bitterly]  Men  are  faithful 
and  constant  in  love  !  What  an  idea  !  [With  heat]  What 
right  have  you  to  talk  like  that  ?  Men  are  faithful  and 
constant  Since  we  are  talking  about  it,  I'll  tell  you  that 
of  all  the  men  I  knew  and  know,  the  best  was  my  late 
husband.  ...  I  loved  him  passionately  with  all  my 
being,  as  only  a  young  and  imaginative  woman  can  love, 
I  gave  him  my  youth,  my  happiness,  my  life,  my  fortune, 
I  breathed  in  him,  I  worshipped  him  as  if  I  were  a  heathen, 
and  .  .  .  and  what  then  ?  This  best  of  men  shamelessly 
deceived  me  at  every  step  !  After  his  death  I  found  in 
his  desk  a  whole  drawerful  of  love-letters,  and  when  he 
was  alive — it's  an  awful  thing  to  remember  ! — he  used  to 
leave  me  alone  for  weeks  at  a  time,  and  make  love  to  other 
women  and  betray  me  before  my  very  eyes ;  he  wasted 
my  money,  and  made  fun  of  my  feelings.  .  .  .  And,  in 
spite  of  all  that,  I  loved  him  and  was  true  to  him.  .  .  . 


THEBEAR  91 

And  not  only  that,  but,  now  that  he  is  dead,  I  am  still 
true  and  constant  to  his  memory.  I  have  shut  myself  for 
ever  within  these  four  walls,  and  will  wear  these  weeds 
to  the  very  end.  .  .  . 

Smirnov.  [Laughs  contemptuously]  Weeds !  .  .  .  I  don't 
understand  what  you  take  me  for  ?  As  if  I  don't  know 
why  you  wear  that  black  domino  and  bury  yourself  between 
four  walls !  I  should  say  I  did !  It's  so  mysterious,  so 
poetic  !  When  some  junker*  or  some  tame  poet  goes  past 
your  windows  he'll  think  :  "  There  lives  the  mysterious 
Tamara  who,  for  the  love  of  her  husband,  buried  herself 
between  four  walls."    We  know  these  games  ! 

PoPOVA.  [Exploding]  What  1  How  dare  you  say  all 
that  to  me  1 

Smirnov.  You  may  have  buried  yourself  alive,  but  you 
haven't  forgotten  to  powder  your  face  ! 

PopovA.  How  dare  you  speak  to  me  like  that  ? 

Smirnov.  Please  don't  shout,  I'm  not  your  steward ! 
You  must  allow  me  to  call  things  by  their  real  names.  I'm 
not  a  woman,  and  I'm  used  to  saying  what  I  think  straight 
out !    Don't  you  shout,  either  ! 

PoPOVA.  I'm  not  shouting,  it's  you !  Please  leave  me 
alone ! 

Smirnov.  Pay  me  my  money  and  I'll  go. 

PoPOVA.  I  shan't  give  you  any  money  ! 

Smirov.  Oh,  no,  you  will. 

Popov  A.  I  shan't  give  you  a  farthing,  just  to  spite  you. 
You  leave  me  alone  ! 

Smirnov.  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  being  either  your 
husband  or  your  fiance,  so  please  don't  make  scenes.  [Sits] 
1  don't  like  it. 

PopovA.  [Choking  with  rage]  So  you  sit  down  ? 
*  So  in  the  original. 


92  THEBEAR 

Smirnov.  I  do. 

PorovA.  I  ask  you  to  go  away  ! 

Smirnov.  Give  me  my  money.  .  .  .  [Aside]  Oh,  Ьо\т 
angry  I  am  !     How  angry  I  am  ! 

PoPOVA.  I  don't  want  to  talk  to  impudent  ecoundrela ! 
Get  out  of  this  !  [Pause]  Aren't  you  going  ?     No  ? 

Smirnov.  No. 

PorovA.  No? 

Smirnov.  No  ! 

PorovA.  Very  well  then !  {Rinrjs,  enter  Luka]  Luka, 
show  this  gentleman  out ! 

Luka.  [Afproaches  Smirnov]  Would  you  mind  going 
out,  sir,  as  you're  asked  to  !     You  needn't  .  .  . 

Smirnov.  [Jumfs  wp]  Shut  up  !  Who  are  you  talking 
to  ?     I'll  chop  you  into  pieces  ! 

Luka.  [Clutches  at  his  heart]  Little  fathers  !  .  .  .  What 
people !  .  .  .  [Falls  into  a  chair]  Oh,  I'm  ill,  I'm  ill ! 
I  can't  breathe  ! 

PopovA.  Where's  Dasha  ?  Dasha  !  [Shouts]  Dasha  ! 
Pelageya  !     Dasha  !  [Rings. 

Luka.  Oh  !  They've  all  gone  out  to  pick  fruit.  .  . 
There's  nobody  at  home  !     I'm  ill !     Water  ! 

Popova.  Get  out  of  this,  now. 

Smirnov.  Can't  you  be  more  polite  ? 

Popova.  [Clenches  her  fists  and  stamps  her  foot]  You're 
a  boor  !     A  coarse  bear  !     A  Bourbon  !     A  monster  ! 

Smirnov.  What  1     W^hat  did  you  say  ? 

Popova.  I  said  you  are  a  bear,  a  monster  ! 

Smirnov.  [Approaching  her]  May  I  ask  what  right  you 
have  to  insult  me  ? 

Popova.  And  suppose  I  am  insulting  you  ?  Do  you 
think  I'm  afraid  of  you  ? 

Smirnov.  And  do  you  think  that  just  because  you're  a 


THEBEAR  93 

poetic  creature  you  can  insult  me  with  impunity  ?     Eh  ? 
We'll  fight  it  out ! 
LuKA.  Little  fathers !  .  .  .  What  people  !  .  .  .  Water! 
Smirnov.  Pistols ! 

PopovA.  Do  you  thin  I'm  afraid  of  you  just  because 
you  have  large  fists  and  a  bull's  throat  ?  Eh  ?  You 
Bourbon ! 

Smirnov.  We'll  fight  it  out !    I'm  not  going  to  be 
insulted  by  anybody,  and  I  don't  care  if  you  are  a  woman, 
one  of  the  "  softer  sex,"  indeed  ! 
PopovA.  [Trying  to  interrupt  him]  Bear!     Bear!     Bear! 
Smirnov.  It's  about  time  we  got  rid  of  the  prejudice 
that  only  men  need  pay  for  their  insults.     Devil  take  it, 
if  you  want  equality  of  rights  you  can  have  it     We're 
going  to  fight  it  out ! 
Popov  A.  With  pistols  ?    Very  well ! 
Smirnov.  This  very  minute. 

PopovA.  This  very  minute  !  My  husband  had  some 
pistols.  .  .  .  I'll  bring  them  here.  [Is  going,  but  turns 
back]  What  pleasure  it  will  give  me  to  put  a  bullet  into 
your  thick  head  !     Devil  take  you  !  [Exit. 

Smirnov.  I'll  bring  her  down  like  a  chicken  !  I'm  not 
a  little  boy  or  a  sentimental  puppy ;  I  don't  care  about 
this  "  softer  sex." 

LuKA.  Gracious  little  fathers !  .  .  .  [Kneels]  Have  pity 
on  a  poor  old  man,  and  go  away  from  here  !  You've 
frightened  her  to  death,  and  now  you  want  to  shoot  her  ! 

Smirnov.  [Not  hearing  him]  If  she  fights,  well  that's 
equality  of  rights,  emancipation,  and  all  that !  Here  the 
sexes  are  equal !  I'll  shoot  her  on  principle  !  But  what 
a  woman  !  [Parodying  her]  "  Devil  take  you  !  I'll  put  a 
bullet  into  your  thick  head."  Eh  1  How  she  reddened, 
bow  her  cheeks  shone  !  .  .  .  She  accepted  my  challenge  1 


94  THE    BEAR 

My    word,    it's    the    first    time   in    my    life    that    I've 


seen.  .  .  . 

LuKA.  Go  away,  sir,  and  I'll  always  pray  to  God  for 
you ! 

Smirnov.  She  is  a  woman!  That's  the  sort  I  can  under- 
stand !  A  real  woman !  Not  a  sour-faced  jellybag,  but 
fire,  gunpowder,  a  rocket !  I'm  even  sorry  to  have  to  kill 
her ! 

LuKA.  [Weeps]  Dear  .  .  .  dear  sir,  do  go  away  ! 

Smirnov.  I   absolutely   like  her !    Absolutely !    Even 
though  her  cheeks  are  dimpled,  I  like  her !    I'm  almost 
ready  to  let  the  debt  go  .  .  .  and  I'm  not  angry  any 
longer.  .  .  .  Wonderful  woman ! 
Enter  PopovA  with  pistols. 

PoPOVA.  Here  are  the  pistols.  .  .  .  But  before  we  fight 
you  must  show  me  how  to  fire.  I've  never  held  a  pistol 
in  my  hands  before. 

LuKA.  Oh,  Lord,  have  mercy  and  save  her.  .  .  .  I'll 
go  and  find  the  coachman  and  the  gardener.  .  .  .  Why 
has  this  infliction  come  on  us.  .  .  .  [Exit. 

Smirnov.  [Exami^iing  the  pistols]  You  see,  there  are 
several  sorts  of  pistols.  .  .  .  There  are  Mortimer  pistob, 
specially  made  for  duels,  they  fire  a  percussion-cap.  These 
are  Smith  and  Wesson  revolvers,  triple  action,  with 
extractors.  .  .  .  These  are  excellent  pistols.  They  can't 
cost  less  than  ninety  roubles  the  pair.  .  .  .  You  must  hold 
the  revolver  like  this.  .  .  .  [Aside]  Her  eyes,  her  eyes ! 
What  an  inspiring  woman  ! 

PopovA.  Like  this  ? 

Smirnov.  Yes,  like  this.  .  .  .  Then  you  cock  the  trigger, 
and  take  aim  like  this.  .  .  .  Put  your  head  back  a  little ! 
Hold  your  arm  out  properly.  .  .  .  Like  that.  .  .  .  Then 
you  press  this  thing  with   your  finger — and  that's  all. 


THEBEAR  95 

The  great  thing  is  to  keep  cool  and  aim  steadily.  .  .  .  Try- 
not  to  jerk  your  arm. 

PopoVA.  Very  well.  .  .  .  It's  inconvenient  to  shoot  in 
a  room,  let's  go  into  the  garden. 

Smirnov.  Come  along  then.  But  I  warn  you,  I'm  going 
to  fire  in  the  air. 

PoPOVA.  That's  the  last  straw  !    Why  ? 

Smirnov.  Because  .  .  .  because  .  .  .  it's  my  afEair. 

PopovA.  Are  you  afraid  ?  Yes  ?  Ah !  No,  sir,  you 
don't  get  out  of  it !  You  come  with  me  !  I  shan't  have 
any  peace  until  I've  made  a  hole  in  your  forehead  .  .  . 
that  forehead  which  I  hate  so  much  !     Are  you  afraid  ? 

Smirnov.  Yes,  I  am  afraid. 

PopovA.  You  lie  !    Why  won't  you  fight  ? 

Smirnov.  Because  .  .  .  because  you  .  .  .  because  I  like 
you 

PoPOVA.  [Laughs]  He  likes  me !  He  dares  to  say  that 
he  likes  me  !  [Points  to  the  door]  That's  the  way. 

Smirnov.  [Loads  the  revolver  in  silence,  takes  his  cap  and 
goes  to  the  door.  There  he  stops  for  half  a  minute,  while 
they  look  at  each  other  in  silence,  then  he  hesitatingly 
approaches  Popova]  Listen.  .  .  .  Are  you  still  angry  ? 
I'm  devilishly  annoyed,  too  .  .  .  but,  do  you  understand 
.  .  .  how  can  I  express  myself  ?  .  .  .  The  fact  is,  you 
see,  it's  like  this,  so  to  speak.  .  .  .  [Shouts]  Well,  is  it  my 
fault  that  I  like  you  ?  [He  snatches  at  the  back  of  a  chair ; 
the  chair  creaks  and  breaks]  Devil  take  it,  how  I'm  smashing 
up  your  furniture  !  I  like  you  !  Do  you  understand  ? 
I  ...  I  almost  love  you  ! 

PoPOVA.  Get  away  from  me — I  hate  you  ! 

Smirnov.  God,  what  a  woman !  I've  never  in  my  life 
seen  one  like  her  !  I'm  lost !  Done  for  !  Fallen  into  a 
mousetrap,  like  a  mouse  ! 


96  THEBEAR 

PoPOVA.  Stand  back,  or  I'll  fire  ! 

Smirnov.  Fire,  then  1  You  can't  understand  what 
happiness  it  would  be  to  die  before  those  beautiful  eyes, 
tobeshotby  a  revolver  held  in  that  little,  velvet  hand.  .  .  . 
I'm  out  of  my  senses !  Think,  and  make  up  your  mind 
at  once,  because  if  I  go  out  we  shall  never  see  each  other 
again !  Decide  now.  ...  I  am  a  landowner,  of  respect- 
able character,  have  an  income  of  ten  thousand  a  year.  .  .  . 
I  can  put  a  bullet  through  a  coin  tossed  into  the  air  as 
it  comes  down.  ...  I  own  some  fine  horses.  .  .  .  Will 
you  be  my  wife  ? 

PoPOVA.  [Indignantly  shakes  her  revolver]  Let's  fight! 
Let's  go  out ! 

Smirnov.  I'm  mad.  ...  I  understand  nothing.  .  .  . 
[  Yells]  Waiter,  water  ! 

PoPOVA.  [Yells]  Let's  go  out  and  fight ! 

Smirnov.  I'm  off  my  head,  I'm  in  love  like  a  boy,  like 
a  fool !  [Snatches  her  hand,  she  screams  with  pain]  I  love 
you  !  [Kneels]  I  love  you  as  I've  never  loved  before  !  I've 
refused  twelve  women,  nine  have  refused  me,  but  I  never 
loved  one  of  them  as  I  love  you.  .  .  .  I'm  weak,  I'm  wax, 
I've  melted.  .  .  .  I'm  on  my  knees  like  a  fool,  offering 
you  my  hand.  .  .  .  Shame,  shame  !  I  haven't  been  in 
love  for  five  years,  I'd  taken  a  vow,  and  now  all  of  a  sudden 
I'm  in  love,  like  a  fish  out  of  water  !  I  offer  you  my  hand. 
Yes  or  no  ?     You  don't  want  me  ?     Very  well ! 

[Gets  up  and  quickly  goes  to  tlic  door. 

POPOVA.  Stop. 

Smirnov.  [Stops]  Well? 

PoPOVA.  Nothing,  go  away.  .  .  No,  stop.  .  .  .  No, 
go  away,  go  away  !  I  hate  you  !  Or  no.  .  .  .  Don't  go 
away  !  Oh,  if  you  knew  how  angry  I  am,  how  angry  I 
am  !  [Throws  her  revolver  on  the  table]  My  fingers  have 


THEBEAR  97 

swollen  because  of  all  this.  .  .  .  [Tears  her  handkerchief 
in  temper]  What  are  you  waiting  for  1     Get  out ! 

Smirnov.  Good-bye. 

PoPOVA.  Yes,  yes,  go  away!  .  .  .  [Yells]  Where  are 
you  going  ?  Stop.  .  .  .  No,  go  away.  Oh,  how  angry 
I  am  !     Don't  come  near  me,  don't  come  near  me  ! 

Smirnov.  [Approaching  her]  How  angry  I  am  with 
myself !  I'm  in  love  like  a  student,  I've  been  on  my 
knees.  .  .  .  [Rudely]  I  love  you  !  What  do  I  want  to 
fall  in  love  with  you  for  ?  To-morrow  I've  got  to  pay 
the  interest,  and  begin  mowing,  and  here  you.  .  .  .  [Puts 
his  arms  around  her]  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for 
this.  .  .  . 

PopovA.  Get  away  from  me  !  Take  your  hands  away  ! 
I  hate  you  !    Let's  go  and  fight  1 

A  prolonged  kiss.  Enter  Luka  with  an  axe,  the 
Gardener  with  a  rake,  the  Coachman  with  a 
pitchfork,  and  Workmen  with  poles. 

Luka.  [Catches  sight  of  the  pair  kissing]  Little  fathers  ! 

[Pause. 

PoPOVA.  [Lowering  her  eyes]  Luka,  tell  them  in  the 
stables  that  Toby  isn't  to  have  any  oats  at  all  to-day. 

Curtain. 


A  TRAGEDIAN  IN  SPITE 
OF  HIMSELF 


CHARACTERS 

Ivan  Ivanovitch  Tolkachov,  thefatJier  of  a  family 
Alexey  Alexeyevitch  Mdeashkin,  his  friend 

The  scene  is  laid  in  St.  Petersburg,  in  Mukabhkin's/o/ 


A  TRAGEDIAN  IN  SPITE 
OF  HIMSELF 

Murashkin's  study.  Comfortable  furniture.  Murashkin 
is  seated  at  his  desk.  Enter  Тот-касноу  holding  in  his 
hands  a  glass  globe  for  a  lamp,  a  toy  bicycle,  three  hat- 
boxes,  a  large  parcel  containing  a  dress,  a  bin-case  of 
beer,  and  several  little  parcels.  He  looks  round  stupidly 
and  lets  himself  down  on  the  sofa  in  exhaustion. 

Murashkin.  How  do  you  do,  Ivan  Ivanovitch  ?  De- 
lighted to  see  you  !     What  brings  you  here  ? 

Tole:achov.  [Breathing  heavily]  My  dear  good  fellow 
...  I  want  to  ask  you  something.  ...  I  implore  you  .  .  . 
lend  me  a  revolver  till  to-morrow.     Be  a  friend  ! 

Murashkin.  What  do  you  want  a  revolver  for  ? 

ToLKACHOV.  I  must  have  it.  .  .  .  Oh,  little  fathers  ! 
.  .  .  give  me  some  water  .  .  .  water  quickly  !  .  .  .  I 
must  have  it.  .  .  .  I've  got  to  go  through  a  dark  wood 
to-night,  so  in  case  of  accidents  .  .  .  do,  please,  lend  it 
to  me. 

Murashkin.  Oh,  you  liar,  Ivan  Ivanovitch!  What 
the  devil  have  you  got  to  do  in  a  dark  wood  ?  I  expect 
you  are  up  to  something.  I  can  see  by  your  face  that  you 
are  up  to  something.  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  Are 
you  ill  ? 

ToLKACHOV.  Wait  a  moment,  let  me  breathe.  ...  Oh 
101 


102  A    TRAGEDIAN 

little  mothers !  I  am  dog-tired.  I've  got  a  feeling  all 
over  me,  and  in  my  head  as  well,  aa  if  I've  been  roasted  on 
a  s^iit.  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer.  Be  a  friend,  and  don't 
ftsk  me  any  questions  or  insist  on  details  ;  just  give  me  the 
revolver  !  I  beseech  you  ! 

МикАЗцкш.  Well,  really !  Ivan  Ivanovitch,  what 
cowardice  is  this  ?  The  father  of  a  family  and  a  Civil 
Servant  holding  a  responsible  post !     For  shame  ! 

ToLKACHOV.  What  sort  of  a  father  of  a  family  am  I ! 
I  am  a  martyr.  I  am  a  beast  of  burden,  a  nigger,  a  slave, 
a  rascal  who  keeps  on  waiting  here  for  something  to  happen 
instead  of  starting  off  for  the  next  world.  I  am  a  rag, 
a  fool,  an  idiot.  Why  am  I  alive  ?  What's  the  use  ? 
[Jumps  up]  Well  now,  tell  me  why  am  I  alive  ?  What's 
the  purpose  of  this  uninterrupted  series  of  mental  and 
physical  sufferings  ?  I  understand  being  a  martyr  to  an 
idea,  yes !  But  to  be  a  martyr  to  the  devil  knows  what, 
skirts  and  lamp-globes,  no  !  I  humbly  decline  !  No,  no, 
no  !    I've  had  enough  1    Enough  ! 

MuRASHKiN.  Don't  shout,  the  neighbours  will  hear  you  ! 

ToLKACHOV."  Let  your  neighbours  hear ;  it's  all  the 
same  to  me  !  If  you  don't  give  me  a  revolver  somebody 
ebe  will,  and  there  will  be  an  end  of  me  anyway  !  I've 
made  up  my  mind  ! 

MuRASHKiN.  Hold  on,  you've  pulled  ой  a  button. 
Speak  calmly.  I  still  don't  understand  what's  wrong 
with  your  life. 

ToLKACHOV.  What's  wrong  ?  You  ask  me  what's 
wrong  ?  Very  well,  I'll  tell  you  !  Very  well !  I'll  tell 
you  everything,  and  then  perhaps  my  soul  will  be  lighter. 
Let's  sit  down.  Now  listen.  .  .  .  Oh,  little  mothers,  I 
am  out  of  breath  !  .  .  .  Just  let's  take  to-day  as  an  instance. 
Let's  take  to-day.     As  you  know,  I've  got  to  work  at  the 


A    TRAGEDIAN  108 

Treasury  from  ten  to  four.  It's  hot,  it's  stuffy,  there  are 
flies,  and,  my  dear  fellow,  the  very  dickens  of  a  chaos.  The 
Secretary  is  on  leave,  Khrapov  has  gone  to  get  married, 
and  the  smaller  fry  is  mostly  in  the  country,  making  love 
or  occupied  with  amateur  theatricals.  Everybody  is  so 
sleepy,  tired,  and  done  up  that  you  can't  get  any  sense 
out  of  them.  The  Secretary's  duties  are  in  the  hands  of 
an  individual  who  is  deaf  in  the  left  ear  and  in  love  ;  the 
public  has  lost  its  memory ;  everybody  is  running  about 
angry  and  raging,  and  there  is  such  a  hullaballoo  that  you 
can't  hear  yourself  speak.  Confusion  and  smoke  every- 
where. And  my  work  is  deathly  :  always  the  same,  always 
the  same — first  a  correction,  then  a  reference  back,  another 
correction,  another  reference  back  ;  it's  all  as  monotonous 
as  the  waves  of  the  sea.  One's  eyes,  you  understand, 
simply  crawl  out  of  one's  head.  Give  me  some  water.  .  .  . 
You  come  out  a  broken,  exhausted  man.  You  would  like 
to  dine  and  fall  asleep,  but  you  don't ! — You  remember  that 
you  live  in  the  country — that  is,  you  are  a  slave,  a  rag,  a 
bit  of  string,  a  bit  of  limp  flesh,  and  you've  got  to  run 
round  and  do  errands.  Where  we  live  a  pleasant  custom 
has  grown  up  :  when  a  man  goes  to  town  every  wretched 
female  inhabitant,  not  to  mention  one's  own  wife,  has  the 
power  and  the  right  to  give  him  a  crowd  of  commissions. 
The  wife  orders  you  to  run  into  the  modiste's  and  curse  her 
for  making  a  bodice  too  wide  across  the  chest  and  too 
narrow  across  the  shoulders  ;  little  Sonya  wants  a  new 
pair  of  shoes  ;  your  sister-in-law  wants  some  scarlet  silk 
like  the  pattern  at  twenty  copecks  and  three  arshins  long. 
.  .  .  Just  wait ;  I'll  read  you.  [Takes  a  note  out  of  Ms 
'pocket  and  reads]  A  globe  for  the  lamp  ;  one  pound  of  pork 
sausages ;  five  copecks'  worth  of  cloves  and  cinnamon  ; 
castor-oil  for  Misha  ;   ten  pounds  of  granulated  sugar.     To 


104  A    TRAGEDIAN 

bring  with  you  from  home :  a  copper  jar  for  the  sugar  ; 
carbolic  acid  ;  insect  powder,  ten  copecks'  worth  ;  twenty 
bottles  of  beer  ;  vinegar  ;  and  corsets  for  Mile.  Shanceau 
at  No.  82.  .  .  .  Ouf !  And  to  bring  home  Misha's  winter 
coat  and  goloshes.  That  is  the  order  of  my  wife  and  family. 
Then  there  are  the  commissions  of  our  dear  friends  and 
neighbours — devil  take  them  !  To-morrow  is  the  name- 
day  of  Volodia  Vlasin ;  I  have  to  buy  a  bicycle  for  him. 
The  wife  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Virkhin  is  in  an  interesting 
condition,  and  I  am  therefore  bound  to  call  in  at  the  mid- 
wife's every  day  and  invite  her  to  come.  And  so  on,  and 
so  on.  There  are  five  notes  in  my  pocket  and  my  hand- 
kerchief is  all  knots.  And  so,  my  dear  fellow,  you  spend 
the  time  between  your  office  and  your  train,  running  about 
the  town  like  a  dog  with  your  tongue  hanging  out,  running 
and  running  and  cursing  life.  From  the  clothier's  to  the 
chemist's,  from  the  chemist's  to  the  modiste's,  from  the 
modiste's  to  the  pork  butcher's,  and  then  back  again  to 
the  chemist's.  In  one  place  you  stumble,  in  a  second  you 
lose  your  money,  in  a  third  you  forget  to  pay  and  they 
raise  a  hue  and  cry  after  you,  in  a  fourth  you  tread  on  the 
train  of  a  lady's  dress.  .  .  .  Tfoo  !  You  get  so  shaken 
up  from  all  this  that  your  bones  ache  all  night  and  you 
dream  of  crocodiles.  Well,  you've  made  all  your  purchases, 
but  how  are  you  to  pack  all  these  things  ?  For  instance, 
how  are  you  to  put  a  heavy  copper  jar  together  with  the 
lamp-globe  or  the  carbolic  acid  with  the  tea  ?  How  are  you 
to  make  a  combination  of  beer-bottles  and  this  bicycle  ? 
It's  the  labours  of  Hercules,  a  puzzle,  a  rebus  !  Whatever 
tricks  you  think  of,  in  the  long  run  you're  bound  to  smash 
or  scatter  something,  and  at  the  station  and  in  the  train 
you  have  to  stand  ^\'ith  your  arms  apart,  holding  up  some 
parcel  or  other  under  your  chin,  with  parcels,  cardboard 


A    TRAGEDIAN  105 

boxes,  and  such-like  rubbish  all  over  you.  The  train 
starts,  the  passengers  begin  to  throw  your  luggage  about 
on  all  sides  :  you've  got  your  things  on  somebody  eke's 
seat.  They  yell,  they  call  for  the  conductor,  they  threaten 
to  have  you  put  out,  but  what  can  I  do  ?  I  just  stand  and 
blink  my  eyes  like  a  whacked  donkey.  Now  listen  to  this. 
I  get  home.  You  think  I'd  like  to  have  a  nice  little  drink 
after  my  righteous  labours  and  a  good  square  meal — isn't 
that  80  ? — but  there  is  no  chance  of  that.  My  spouse  has 
been  on  the  look-out  for  me  for  some  time.  You've  hardly 
started  on  your  soup  when  she  has  her  claws  into  you, 
wretched  slave  that  you  are — and  wouldn't  you  like  to 
go  to  some  amateur  theatricals  or  to  a  dance  ?  You  can't 
protest.  You  are  a  husband,  and  the  word  husband  when 
translated  into  the  language  of  summer  residents  in  the 
country  means  a  dumb  beast  which  you  can  load  to  any 
extent  without  fear  of  the  interference  of  the  Society  for 
the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals.  So  you  go  and  blink 
at  "  A  Family  Scandal  "  or  something,  you  applaud  when 
your  wife  tells  you  to,  and  you  feel  worse  and  worse  and 
worse  until  you  expect  an  apoplectic  fit  to  happen  any 
moment.  If  you  go  to  a  dance  you  have  to  find  partners  for 
your  wife,  and  if  there  is  a  shortage  of  them  then  you  dance 
the  quadrilles  yourself.  You  get  back  from  the  theatre  or 
the  dance  after  midnight,  when  you  are  no  longer  a  man  but 
a  useless,  limp  rag.  Well,  at  last  you've  got  what  you  want ; 
you  unrobe  and  get  into  bed.  It's  excellent — you  can 
close  your  eyes  and  sleep.  .  .  .  Everything  is  so  nice, 
poetic,  and  warm,  you  understand ;  there  are  no  children 
squealing  behind  the  wall,  and  you've  got  rid  of  your  wife, 
and  your  conscience  is  clear — what  more  can  you  want  ? 
You  fall  asleep — and  suddenly  .  .  .  you  hear  a  buzz  !  .  . 
Gnats !  [Jumps   wp]  Gnats !     Be   they   triply    accursed 


106  A    TRAGEDIAN 

Gnats !  [Shakes  his  fist]  Gnats !  It's  one  of  the  plagues 
of  Egypt,  one  of  the  tortures  of  the  Inquisition  !  Buzz ! 
It  sounds  so  pitiful,  so  pathetic,  as  if  it's  begging  your 
pardon,  but  the  villain  stings  so  that  you  have  to  scratch 
yourself  for  an  hour  after.  You  smoke,  and  go  for  them, 
and  cover  yourself  from  head  to  foot,  but  it  is  no  good ! 
At  last  you  have  to  sacrifice  yourself  and  let  the  cursed 
things  devour  you.  You've  no  sooner  got  used  to  the 
gnats  when  another  plague  begins  :  downstairs  your  wife 
begins  practising  sentimental  songs  with  her  tenor  friends. 
They  sleep  by  day  and  rehearse  for  amateur  concerts  by 
night.  Oh,  my  God  !  Those  tenors  are  a  torture  with 
which  no  gnats  on  earth  can  compare.  [He  sitigs]  "  Oh, 
tell  me  not  my  youth  has  ruined  you."  "  Before  thee  do  I 
stand  enchanted."  Oh,  the  beastly  things !  They've 
about  killed  me  !  So  as  to  deafen  myself  a  little  I  do  this  : 
drum  on  my  ears.  This  goes  on  till  four  o'clock.  Oh, 
give  me  some  more  water,  brother !  .  .  .  I  can't  .  .  . 
Well,  not  having  slept,  you  get  up  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning  and  off  you  go  to  the  station.  You  run  so  as  not 
to  be  late,  and  it's  muddy,  foggy,  cold — brr  !  Then  you 
get  to  town  and  start  all  over  again.  So  there,  brother. 
It's  a  horrible  life ;  I  wouldn't  wish  one  like  it  for  my 
enemy.  You  understand — I'm  ill !  Got  asthma,  heart- 
burn— I'm  always  afraid  of  something.  I've  got  indi- 
gestion, everything  is  thick  before  me  .  .  .  I've  become  a 
regular  psychopath.  .  .  .  [Looking  round]  Only,  between 
ourselves,  I  want  to  go  down  to  see  Chechotte  or  Merzhey- 
evsky.  There's  some  devil  in  me,  brother.  In  moments 
of  despair  and  suffering,  when  the  gnats  are  stinging  or  the 
tenors  sing,  everything  suddenly  grows  dim  ;  you  jump  up 
and  race  round  the  whole  house  like  a  lunatic  and  shout, 
"  I  want  blood  !     Blood  !  "     And  really  all  the  time  you 


A   TRAGEDIAN  107 

do  want  to  let  a  knife  into  somebody  or  hit  him  over  the 
head  with  a  chair.  That's  what  life  in  a  summer  villa 
leads  to !  And  nobody  has  any  sympathy  for  me,  and 
everybody  seems  to  think  it's  all  as  it  should  be.  People 
even  laugh.  But  understand,  I  am  a  living  being  and 
I  want  to  live !  This  isn't  farce,  it's  tragedy  !  I  say,  if 
you  don't  give  me  your  revolver,  you  might  at  any  rate 
sympathize. 

MuRASHKiN.  I  do  sympathize. 

ToLKACHOV.  I    see    how    much   you   sympathize.  .  . 
Good-bye.     I've  got  to  buy  some  anchovies  and  some 
sausage  .  .  .  and  some  tooth-powder,   and  then  to  the 
station. 

MuRASHKiN.  Where  are  you  living  ? 

ToLKACHOV.  At  Carrion  Eiver. 

MuRASHKiN.  [Delighted]  Really  ?  Then  you'll  know 
Olga  Pavlovna  Finberg,  who  lives  there  ? 

ToLKACHOV.  I  know  her.     We  are  even  acquainted. 

MuRASHKiN.  How  perfectly  splendid  !  That's  so  conve- 
nient, and  it  would  be  so  good  of  you  .  .  . 

ToLKACHOV.  What's  that  ? 

MuRASHKiN.  My  dear  fellow,  wouldn't  you  do  one  little 
thing  for  me  ?    Be  a  friend  !    Promise  me  now. 

ToLKACHOV.  What's  that  ? 

MuRASHKiN.  It  would  be  such  a  friendly  action !  I 
implore  you,  my  dear  man.  In  the  first  place,  give  Olga 
Pavlovna  my  very  kind  regards.  In  the  second  place, 
there's  a  little  thing  I'd  like  you  to  take  down  to  her.  She 
asked  me  to  get  a  sewing-machine  but  I  haven't  anybody 
to  send  it  down  to  her  by.  .  .  .  You  take  it,  my  dear  ! 
And  vou  might  at  the  same  time  take  down  this  canary 
in  its  cage  .  .  .  only  be  careful,  or  you'll  break  the  door. 
.  .  .  What  are  you  looking  at  me  like  that  for  1 


108  Л    TRAGEDIAN 

ToLKACHOV.  A  sewing-machine  .  .  .  canary  in  a 
cage  .  .  .  siskins,  chaffinches  .  .  . 

MuRASHKiN.  Ivan  Ivanovitch,  what's  the  matter  with 
you  ?     Why  are  you  turning  purple  ? 

ToLKAcnov.  [Stamfing]  Give  me  the  sewing-machine  1 
Where's  the  bird-cage  ?  Now  get  on  top  yourself !  Eat 
me  1  Tear  me  to  pieces  !  Kill  me  1  [Clenching  his  fists] 
I  want  blood  !     Blood  !     Blood  ! 

MuRASHKiN.  You've  gone  mad  ! 

ToLKACHOV.  [Treading  on  his  feet]  I  want  blood! 
Blood ! 

MuRASHKiN.  [In  horror]  He's  gone  mad  !  [Shouts]  Peter  I 
Maria  !     Where  are  you  ?     Help  ! 

ToLKACHOV.  [Chasing  him  round  the  room]  I  want 
blood  1    Blood  1 

Curtain. 


THE  ANNIVERSARY 


CHARACTERS 

Andrey    Andreyevitch    SniPUCHiN,    Chairman    of  the 

N Joint  Stock  Bank,  a  middle-aged  man,  with  a 

monocle 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna,  his  wife,  aged  25 

KuSMA  NicoLAiEViTCH  KmRiN,  the  bank's  aged  book-keeper 

Nastasya   Fyodorovna   Merchutkina,   an   old   woman 
wearing  an  old-fashioned  cloak 

Directors  of  the  Bank 

Employees  of  the  Bank 

The  action  takes  place  at  the  Bank 


THE   ANNIVERSARY 

The  private  office  of  the  Chairman  of  Directors.  On  the 
left  is  a  door,  leading  into  the  public  department.  There 
are  two  desks.  The  furniture  aims  at  a  deliberately 
luxurious  effect,  with  armchairs  covered  in  velvet, 
flowers,  statues,  carpets,  and  a  telephone.  It  is  mid- 
day. Khirin  is  alone ;  he  wears  long  felt  boots,  and 
is  shouting  through  the  door. 

KmRiN.  Send  out  to  the  chemist  for  15  copecks'  worth 
of  valerian  drops,  and  tell  them  to  bring  some  drinking 
water  into  the  Directors'  office !  This  is  the  hundredth 
time  I've  asked  !  [Goes  to  a  desk]  I'm  absolutely  tired  out. 
This  is  the  fourth  day  I've  been  working,  without  a  chance 
of  shutting  my  eyes.  From  morning  to  evening  I  work 
here,  from  evening  to  morning  at  home.  [Coughs]  And 
I've  got  an  inflammation  all  over  me.  I'm  hot  and  cold, 
and  I  cough,  and  my  legs  ache,  and  there's  something 
dancing  before  my  eyes.  [Sits]  Our  scoundrel  of  a  Chair- 
man, the  brute,  is  going  to  read  a  report  at  a  general 
meeting.  "  Our  Bank,  its  Present  and  Future."  You'd 
think  he  was  a  Gambetta.  .  .  .  [At  work]  Two  .  .  . 
one  .  .  .  one  .  .  .  six  .  .  .  nought  .  .  .  seven.  .  .  .  Next, 
six  .  .  .  nought  .  .  .  one  .  .  .  six.  ...  He  just  wants 
to  throw  dust  into  people's  eyes,  and  so  I  sit  here  and 
work  for  him  like  a  galley-slave !  This  report  of  his  is 
poetic  fiction  and  nothing  more,  and  here  I've  got  to  sit 

111 


112  THE   ANNIVERSARY 

day  aflcr  day  and  add  figures,  devil  take  his  soul ! 
[Rattles  on  his  counting-frame]  I  can't  stand  it!  [Writing] 
That  is,  one  .  .  .  three  .  .  .  seven  .  .  .  two  .  .  .  one  .  .  . 
nought.  ...  lie  promised  to  reward  me  for  my  work. 
If  everything  goes  well  to-day  and  the  public  is  properly 
put  into  blinkers,  he's  promised  me  a  gold  charm  and 
300  roubles  bonus.  .  .  .  We'll  see.  [Works]  Yes,  but  if 
my  work  all  goes  for  nothing,  then  you'd  better  look  out. 
.  .  .  I'm  very  excitable.  ...  If  I  lose  my  temper  I'm 
capable  of  committing  some  crime,  so  look  out !    Yes  ! 

Noise  and  applause  behind  the  scenes.    Зшрисшк'в 
voice  :    "  Thank  you  !     Thank  you  !     I  am  ex- 
tremely grateful."    Enter  SniPucmN.    He  wears 
a  frockcoat  and  white  tie ;    he  carries  an  album 
which  has  been  just  presented  to  him. 
SHiPUcmN.  [At  the  door,  addresses  the  outer  office]  This 
present,  my  dear  colleagues,  will  be  preserved  to  the  day 
of  my  death,  as  a  memory  of  the  happiest  days  of  my 
life  !     Yes,  gentlemen  !     Once  more,  I  thank  you  !  [Throics 
a  kiss  into  the  air  and  turns  to  Кшкхк]  My  dear,  my 
respected  Kusma  Nicolaievitch ! 

All  the  time  that  Shipuchin  is  on  the  stage,  clerks 
intermittently  come  in  with  papers  for  his  signa- 
ture and  go  out. 
KmRiN.  [Standing    up]  I    have    the    honour    to    con- 
gratulate   you,    Andrey    Andreyevitch,    on    the    fiftieth 
anniversary  of  our  Bank,  and  hope  that  .  .  . 

SfflPUcmN.  [Warmly  shakes  hands]  Thank  you,  my  dear 
sir !  Thank  you  !  I  think  that  in  view  of  the  unique 
character  of  the  day,  as  it  is  an  anniversary,  we  may  kiss 
each  other !  .  .  .  [They  kiss]  1  am  very,  very  glad ! 
Thank  you  for  your  service  ...  for  everything  !  If,  in 
the  course  of  the  time  during  which  I  have  had  the  honour 


THE   ANNIVERSARY  113 

to  be  Chairman  of  this  Bank  anything  useful  has  been 
done,  the  credit  is  due,  more  than  to  anybody  else,  to 
my  colleagues.  [Sighs]  Yes,  fifteen  years  !  Fifteen  years 
as  my  name's  Shipuchin !  [Changes  his  tone]  Where's  my 
report  ?     Is  it  getting  on  ? 

Khirin.  Yes  ;  there's  only  five  pages  left. 

SfflPUCmN.  Excellent.     Then  it  will  be  ready  by  three  ? 

KmRiN.  If  nothing  occurs  to  disturb  me,  I'll  get  it 
done.     Nothing  of  any  importance  is  now  left. 

SmPUCmN.  Splendid.  Splendid,  as  my  name's  Ship- 
uchin !  The  general  meeting  will  be  at  four.  If  you 
please,  my  dear  fellow.  Give  me  the  first  half,  I'll  peruse 
it.  .  .  .  Quick.  .  .  .  [Takes  the  report]  I  base  enormous 
hopes  on  this  report.  It's  my  profession  defoi,  or,  better 
still,  my  firework.*  My  firework,  as  my  name's  Shipuchin  ! 
[Sits  and  reads  the  report  to  himself]  I'm  hellishly  tired.  .  .  t 
My  gout  kept  on  giving  me  trouble  last  night,  all  the 
morning  I  was  running  about,  and  then  these  excitements, 
ovations,  agitations.  .  .  .  I'm  tired  ! 

Khirin.  Two  .  .  .  nought  .  .  .  nought  .  .  .  three  .  .  . 
nine  .  .  .  two  .  .  .  nought.    I   can't   see   straight   after 

all  these  figures Three  .  .  .  one  .  .  .  six  .  .  .  four  .  .  . 

one  .  .  .  five.  .  .  .  [Uses  the  counting  frame. 

SfflPUCmN.  Another  unpleasantness.  .  .  .  This  morning 
your  wife  came  to  see  me  and  complained  about  you  once 
again.  Said  that  last  night  you  threatened  her  and  her 
sister  with  a  knife.  Kusma  Nicolaievitch,  what  do  you 
mean  by  that  ?     Oh,  oh  ! 

KmRiN.  [Rudely]  As  it's  an  anniversary,  Audrey  An- 
dreyevitch,  I'll  ask  for  a  special  favour.  Please,  even  if 
it's  only  out  of  respect  for  my  toil,  don't  interfere  in  my 
family  life.     Please  ! 

*  The  actual  word  employed. 


114  THE    ANNIVERSARY 

Shipuchin.  [Sighs]  Yours  is  an  impossible  character, 
Kusma  Nicolaicvitch !  You're  an  excellent  and 
respected  man,  but  you  bcliavc  to  women  like  some 
scoundrel.  Yes,  really  I  don't  understand  why  you 
hate  them  so  ? 

Khirin.  I  wish  I  could  understand  why  you  love  them 
so !  [Pause. 

Shipuchin.  The  employees  have  just  presented  me  with 
an  album ;  and  the  Directors,  as  I've  heard,  are  going  to 
give  me  an  address  and  a  silver  loving-cup.  .  .  .  [Playing 
with  his  monocle]  Very  nice,  as  my  name's  Shipuchin ! 
It  isn't  excessive.  A  certain  pomp  is  essential  to  the 
reputation  of  the  Bank,  devil  take  it !  You  know  every- 
thing, of  course.  ...  I  composed  the  address  myself,  and 
I  bought  the  cup  myself,  too.  .  .  .  Well,  then  there  was 
45  roubles  for  the  cover  of  the  address,  but  you  can't  do 
without  that.  They'd  never  have  thought  of  it  for  them- 
selves. [Looks  round]  Look  at  the  furniture !  Just  look 
at  it !  They  say  I'm  stingy,  that  all  I  want  is  that  the 
locks  on  the  doors  should  be  polished,  that  the  employees 
should  wear  fashionable  ties,  and  that  a  fat  hall-porter 
should  stand  by  the  door.  No,  no,  sirs.  Polished  locks 
and  a  fat  porter  mean  a  good  deal.  I  can  behave  as  I  like 
at  home,  eat  and  sleep  like  a  pig,  get  drunk.  .  .  . 

Khirin.  Please  don't  make  hints. 

Shipuchin.  Nobody's  making  hints !  What  an  im- 
possible character  yours  is.  ...  As  I  was  saying,  at  home 
I  can  live  like  a  tradesman,  a  parvenu,  and  be  up  to  any 
games  I  like,  but  here  everything  must  be  en  grand.  This 
is  a  Bank  !  Here  every  detail  must  imponiren,  so  to 
speak,  and  have  a  majestic  appearance.  [He  picks  up  a 
paper  from  the  floor  and  throws  it  into  the  fireplace]  My 
service  to  the  Bank  has  been  just  this — I've  raised  its 


THE    ANNIVERSARY  115 

reputation.  A  thing  of  immense  importance  is  tone ! 
Immense,  as  my  name's  Shipuchin !  [Looks  over  Khirin] 
My  dear  man,  a  deputation  of  shareholders  may  come 
here  any  moment,  and  there  you  are  in  felt  boots,  wearing 
a  scarf  ...  in  some  absurdly  coloured  jacket.  .  .  .  You 
might  have  put  on  a  frock-coat,  or  at  any  rate  a  dark 
jacket.  .  .  . 

Кшкш.  My  health  matters  more  to  me  than  your 
shareholders.     I've  an  inflammation  all  over  me. 

Shipuchin.  [Excitedly]  But  you  will  admit  that  it's 
untidy  !    You  spoil  the  ensemble  ! 

Khirin.  If  the  deputation  comes  I  can  go  and  hide 
myself.  It  won't  matter  if  .  .  .  seven  .  .  .  one  .  . 
seven  .  .  .  two  .  .  .  one  .  .  .  five  .  .  .  nought.  I  don't  like 
untidiness  myself.  .  .  .  Seven  .  .  .  two  •  .  .  nine  .  .  .  [Uses 
the  counting-frame]  I  can't  stand  untidiness !  It  would 
have  been  wiser  of  you  not  to  have  invited  ladies  to  to-day's 
anniversary  dinner.  .  .  . 

SfflPUCHiN.  Oh,  that's  nothing. 

КшЕШ.  I  know  that  you're  going  to  have  the  ha  1 
filled  with  them  to-night  to  make  a  good  show,  but  you 
look  out,  or  they'll  spoil  everything.  They  cause  all  sorts 
of  mischief  and  disorder. 

SmpucmN.  On  the  contrary,  feminine  society  elevates  ! 

Khirin.  Yes.  .  .  .  Your  wife  seems  intelligent,  but  on 
the  Monday  of  last  week  she  let  something  off  that  upset 
me  for  two  days.  In  front  of  a  lot  of  people  she  suddenly 
asks  :  "  Is  it  true  that  at  our  Bank  my  husband  bought 
up  a  lot  of  the  shares  of  the  Driazhsky-Priazhsky  Bank, 
which  have  been  falling  on  exchange  ?  My  husband  is  so 
annoyed  about  it !  "  This  in  front  of  people  Why  do 
you  tell  them  everything,  I  don't  understand  Do  you 
want  them  to  get  you  into  serious  trouble  ? 


116  THE    ANNIVERSARY 

Smi'uCHiN.  Well, that's  enough, enough  !  Allthat'stoo 
dull  for  an  anniversary.  Which  reminds  me,  by  the  way. 
[Looks  at  the  time]  My  wife  ought  to  be  here  soon.  I  really 
ought  to  have  gone  to  the  station,  to  meet  the  poor  little 
thing,  but  there's  no  time.  .  .  .  and  I'm  tired.  I  must  say 
I'm  not  glad  of  her  1  That  is  to  say,  I  am  glad,  but  I'd  be 
gladder  if  she  only  stayed  another  couple  of  days  with  her 
mother.  She'll  want  me  to  spend  the  whole  evening  with 
her  to-night,  whereas  we  have  arranged  a  little  excursion  for 
ourselves. .  .  .  [Shivers]  Oh,  my  nerves  have  already  started 
dancing  me  about.  They  are  so  strained  that  I  think  the 
very  smallest  trifle  would  be  enough  to  make  me  break  into 
tears  !  No,  I  must  be  strong,  as  my  name's  Shipuchin  ! 
Enter  Tatiana  Alexeyevna  Shipuchin  in  a  water- 
proof, with  a  little  travelling  satchel  slung  across  her 
shoulder. 

Shipuchin.  Ah  !    In  the  nick  of  time  ! 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  Darling ! 

[Runs  to  her  husband :  a  prolonged  kiss. 

Shipuchin.  We  were  only  speaking  of  you  just  now  1 

[Looks  at  his  watch. 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  [Panting]  Were  you  very  dull 
without  me  ?  Are  you  well  ?  I  haven't  been  home  yet, 
I  came  here  straight  from  the  station.  I've  a  lot,  a  lot 
to  tell  you.  ...  I  couldn't  wait.  ...  I  shan't  take  ой 
my  clothes,  I'll  only  stay  a  minute.  [To  Khirin]  Good 
morning,  Kusma  Nicolaievitch  !  [To  her  husband]  Is  every- 
thing all  right  at  home  ? 

Shipuchin.  Yes,  quite.  And,  you  know,  you've  got  to 
look  plumper  and  better  this  week.  .  .  .  Well,  what  sort 
of  a  time  did  you  have  1 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  Splendid.  Mamma  and  Eatya 
send  their  regards.    Vassili  Andrei tch  sends  you  a  Ызя. 


THE    ANNIVERSARY  117 

[Kisses  Mm]  Aunt  sends  you  a  jar  of  jam,  and  is  annoyed 
because  you  don't  write.  Zina  sends  you  a  kiss,  [Kisses.] 
Oh,  if  you  knew  what's  happened.  If  you  only  knew  !  I'm 
even  frightened  to  tell  you  !  Oh,  if  you  only  knew  1  But 
I  see  by  your  eyes  that  you're  sorry  I  came  ! 

SfflPUCfflN.  On  the  contrary.  .  .  .  Darling.  .  .  . 

[Kisses  her. 
KmRiN  coughs  angrily. 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  Oh,  poor  Katya,  poor  Katya ! 
I'm  so  sorry  for  her,  so  sorry  for  her. 

SfflPUcmN.  This  is  the  Bank's  anniversary  to-day, 
darling,  we  may  get  a  deputation  of  the  shareholders  at 
any  moment,  and  you're  not  dressed. 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  Oh,  yes,  the  anniversary !  I 
congratulate  you,  gentlemen.  I  wish  you.  ...  So  it 
means  that  to-day's  the  day  of  the  meeting,  the  dinner.  .  .  . 
That's  good.  And  do  you  remember  that  beautiful  address 
which  you  spent  such  a  long  time  composing  for  the  share- 
holders ?  Will  it  be  read  to-day  ? 
KmRiN  coughs  angrily. 

SmpucfflN.  [Confused]  My  dear,  we  don't  talk  about 
these  things.     You'd  really  better  go  home. 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  In  a  minute,  in  a  minute.  I'll 
tell  you  everything  in  one  minute  and  go.  I'll  tell  you 
from  the  very  beginning.  Well.  .  .  .  When  you  were 
seeing  me  ofi,  you  remember  I  was  sitting  next  to  that 
stout  lady,  and  I  began  to  read.  I  don't  like  to  talk  in 
the  train.  I  read  for  three  stations  and  didn't  say  a  word 
to  anyone.  .  .  .  Well,  then  the  evening  set  in,  and  I  felt 
80  mournful,  you  know,  with  such  sad  thoughts !  A 
young  man  was  sitting  opposite  me — not  a  bad-looking 
fellow,  a  brunette.  .  .  .  Well,  we  fell  into  conversa- 
tion. ...  A  sailor  came  along  then,  then  some  student 


118  THE    ANNIVERSARY 

or  other.  .  .  .  [Laurjhs]  1  told  them  that  I  wasn't  married 
•  .  .  and  they  did  look  after  me !  We  chattered  till  midnight, 
the  brunette  kept  on  telling  the  most  awfully  funny  stories, 
and  the  sailor  kept  on  singing.  My  chest  began  to  ache 
from  laughing.  And  when  the  sailor — oh,  those  sailors! — 
when  he  got  to  know  my  name  was  Tattana,  you  know  what 
he  sang  ?  [Sings  in  a  bass  voice] "  Onegin  don't  let  me  con- 
ceal it,  I  love  Tatiana  madly !  "♦  [Roars  with  laugJiter. 
Кшкш  coughs  angrily. 

Shipuchin.  Tania,  dear,  you're  disturbing  Kusma 
Nicolaievitch.     Go  home,  dear.  .  .  .  Later  on.  .  •  . 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  No,  no,  let  him  hear  if  he  wants 
to,  it's  awfully  interesting.  I'll  end  in  a  minute.  Serezha 
came  to  meet  me  at  the  station.  Some  young  man  or 
other  turns  up,  an  inspector  of  taxes,  I  think  .  .  .  quite 
handsome,  especially  his  eyes.  .  .  .  Serezha  introduced 
me,  and  the  three  of  us  rode  ofi  together.  ...  It  was 
lovely  weather.  .  .  . 

Voices  behind  the  stage :  "  You  can't,  you  can't ! 
What  do  you  want  ?  Enter  Merchutkina, 
waving  her  arms  about. 

Merchutkina.  What  are  you  dragging  at  me  for  ? 
What  else  !  I  want  him  himself !  [To  SmruCHiN]  I  have 
the  honour,  your  excellency  ...  I  am  the  wife  of  a  civil 
servant,  Nastasya  Fyodorovna  Merchutkina. 

SHiPUcmN.  What  do  you  want  ? 

Merchutkina.  Well,  you  see,  your  excellency,  my 
husband  has  been  ill  for  five  months,  and  while  he  was 
at  home,  getting  better,  he  was  suddenly  dismissed  for 
no  reason,  your  excellency,  and  when  I  went  to  get  his 
salary,  they,  you  see,  deducted  24  roubles  36  copecks 
from  it.  What  for  ?  I  ask.  They  said,  "  Well,  he  drew 
*  From  the  Opera  Evgeni  Onegin — words  by  Pushkin. 


THE    ANNIVERSARY  119 

it  from  the  employees'  account,  and  the  others  had  to 
make  it  up."  How  can  that  be  ?  How  could  he  draw 
anything  without  my  permission  ?  No,  your  excellency  ! 
I'm  a  poor  woman  .  .  .  my  lodgers  are  all  I  have  to  live 
on.  .  .  .  I'm  weak  and  defenceless.  .  .  .  Everybody  does 
me  some  harm,  and  nobody  has  a  kind  word  for  me. 

SmpucHiN.  Excuse  me. 

[Takes  a  petition  frotn  her  and  reads  it  standing. 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  \To  Кшкш]  Yes,  but  first 
we.  •  .  .  Last  week  I  suddenly  received  a  letter  from  my 
mother.  She  writes  that  a  certain  Grendilevsky  has  pro- 
posed to  my  sister  Katya.  A  nice,  modest,  young  man, 
but  with  no  means  of  his  own,  and  no  assured  position. 
And,  unfortunately,  just  think  of  it,  Katya  is  absolutely 
gone  on  him.  What's  to  be  done  ?  Mamma  writes  telling 
me  to  come  at  once  and  influence  Katya.  .  .  . 

Khirin.  {Angrily^  Excuse  me,  you've  made  me  lose  my 
place !  You  go  talking  about  your  mamma  and  Katya, 
and  I  understand  nothing,  and  I've  lost  my  place. 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  What  does  that  matter  ?  You 
listen  when  a  lady  is  talking  to  you  !  Why  are  you  so 
angry  to-day  ?     Are  you  in  love  ?  [Laughs. 

SfflPUCHiN.  [To  Merchutkina]  Excuse  me,  but  what 
is  this  ?     I  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  it.  .  . 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  Are  you  in  love  ?  Aha!  You're 
blushing  ! 

SHiPUcmN.  [To  his  wife]  Tanya,  dear,  do  go  out  into 
the  public  office  for  a  moment.     I  shan't  be  long. 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  All  right.  [Goes  out. 

SmpucmN.  I  don't  understand  anything  of  this.  You've 
obviously  come  to  the  wrong  place,  madam.  Your  petition 
doesn't  concern  us  at  all.  You  should  go  to  the  depart- 
ment in  which  your  husband  was  employed. 


120  THE    ANNIVERSARY 

Merchutkina.  I've  been  there  a  good  many  times 
these  five  months,  and  they  wouldn't  even  look  at  my 
petition.  I'd  given  up  all  hopes,  but,  thanks  to  my  son- 
in-law,  Boris  Matveyitch,  I  thought  of  coming  to  you. 
"  You  go,  mother,"  he  says,  "  and  apply  to  Mr.  Shipuchin, 
he's  an  influential  man  and  can  do  anything."  Help  me, 
your  excellency  ! 

SniPUcniN.  We  can't  do  anything  for  you,  Mrs.  Mer- 
chutkina.  You  must  understand  that  your  husband,  so 
far  as  I  can  gather,  was  in  the  employ  of  the  Army  Medical 
Department,  while  this  is  a  private,  commercial  concern, 
a  bank.     Don't  you  understand  that  ? 

Merciiutkina.  Your  excellency,  I  can  produce  a  doctor's 
certificate  of  my  husband's  illness.  Here  it  is,  just  look 
at  it.  .  .  . 

Shipuchin.  [Irritated]  That's  ail  right ;  I  quite  be- 
lieve you,  but  it's  not  our  business.  [Behind  the  scene, 
Tatiana  Alexeyevna's  laughter  is  heard,  then  a  man's. 
Shipuchin  glances  at  the  door]  She's  disturbing  the 
employees.  [To  Merchutkina]  It's  strange  and  it's 
even  silly.  Surely  your  husband  knows  where  you  ought 
to  apply  ? 

Merchutkina.  Your  excellency,  I  don't  let  him  know 
anything.  He  just  cried  out :  "  It  isn't  your  business ! 
Get  out  of  this  !  "     And  .  .  . 

Shipuchin.  Madam,  I  repeat,  your  husband  was  in  the 
employ  of  the  Army  Medical  Department,  and  this  is  a 
bank,  a  private,  commercial  concern.  .  .  . 

Merchutkina.  Y^es,  yes,  yes.  ...  I  understand,  my 
dear.  In  that  case,  your  excellency,  just  order  them  to 
pay  me  16  roubles  !  I  don't  mind  taking  that  to  be  going 
on  with. 

Shipuchin.  [Sighs]  Ouf ! 


THE    ANNIVERSARY  121 

Khirin.  Andrey  Andreyevitch,  I'll  never  finish  the 
report  at  this  rate  ! 

SmPUcmN.  One  moment.  [To  Merchutkina]  I  can't 
get  any  sense  out  of  you.  But  do  understand  that  youi 
taking  this  business  here  is  as  absurd  as  if  you  took  a 
divorce  petition  to  a  chemist's  or  into  a  gold  assay  office. 
[Knock  at  the  door.  The  voice  of  Tatiana  Alexeyevna  is 
heard,  "  Can  I  come  in,  Andrey  ?  "  SmPUCHiN  shouts] 
Just  wait  one  minute,  dear !  [To  Merchutkina]  What 
has  it  got  to  do  with  us  if  you  haven't  been  paid  ?  As  it 
happens,  madam,  this  is  an  anniversary  to-day,  we're 
busy  .  .  .  and  somebody  may  be  coming  here  at  any 
moment.  .  .  .  Excuse  me.  .  .  . 

Merchutkina.  Your  excellency,  have  pity  on  me,  an 
orphan !  I'm  a  weak,  defenceless  woman.  .  .  .  I'm  tired 
to  death.  .  .  .  I'm  having  trouble  with  my  lodgers,  and 
on  account  of  my  husband,  and  I've  got  the  house  to  look 
after,  and  my  son-in-law  is  out  of  work.  .  .  . 

Shipuchin.  Mrs.  Merchutkina,  I  .  .  .  No,  excuse  me, 
I  can't  talk  to  you  !  My  head's  even  in  a  whirl.  .  .  .  You 
are  disturbing  us  and  making  us  waste  our  time.  .  .  . 
[Sighs,  aside]  What  a  business,  as  my  name's  Shipuchin ! 
[To  Khirin]  Kusma  Nicolaievitch,  will  you  please  explain 
to  Mrs.  Merchutkina.  .  .  . 

[Waves  his  hand  and  goes  out  into  jtublic  department. 

Khirin.  [Approaching  Merchutkina,  angrily]  What  do 
you  want  ? 

Merchutkina.  I'm  a  weak,  defenceless  woman.  .  .  . 
I  may  look  all  right,  but  if  you  were  to  take  me  to  pieces 
you  wouldn't  find  a  single  healthy  bit  in  me  !  I  can 
hardly  stand  on  my  legs,  and  I've  lost  my  appetite.  I 
drank  my  cofiee  to-day  and  got  no  pleasure  out  of  it. 

KniRiN.  I  ask  you,  what  do  you  want  ? 


122  THE    ANNIVERSARY 

Merchutkina.  Tell  them,  my  dear,  to  give  me  15 
roubles,  and  a  month  later  will  do  for  the  rest. 

Khirin.  But  haven't  you  been  told  perfectly  plainly 
that  this  is  a  bank  ! 

Merchutkina.  Yes,  yes.  .  .  .  And  if  you  like  I  can 
show  you  the  doctor's  certificate. 

Khirin.  Have  you  got  a  head  on  your  shoulders,  or 
what  ? 

Merchutkina.  My  dear,  I'm  asking  for  what's  mine  by 
law.     I  don't  want  what  isn't  mine. 

Khirin.  I  ask  you,  madam,  have  you  got  a  head  on 
your  shoulders,  or  what  ?  Well,  devil  take  me,  I  haven't 
any  time  to  talk  to  you  !  I'm  busy.  .  .  .  [Points  to  the 
door]  That  way,  please  ! 

Merchutkina.  [Surprised]  And  where's  the  money  ? 

Khirin.  You  haven't  a  head,  but  this  .  .  . 

[Taps  the  table  and  then  points  to  his  forehead. 

Merchutkina.  [Offended]  What  ?  Well,  never  mind, 
never  mind.  .  .  .  You  can  do  that  to  your  own  wife,  but 
I'm  the  wife  of  a  civil  servant.  .  .  .  You  can't  do  that  to 
r^o ! 

Khirin.  [Losing  his  temper]  Get  out  of  this  ! 

Merchutkina.  No,  no,  no  .  .  .  none  of  that ! 

Khirin.  If  you  don't  get  out  this  second,  I'll  call  for 
the  hall-porter  !     Get  out !  [Statnping. 

Merchutkina.  Never  mind,  never  mind !  I'm  not 
afraid  !    I've  seen  the  like  of  you  before  !    Miser  1 

Khirin.  I  don't  think  I've  ever  seen  a  more  awful 
woman  in  my  life.  .  .  .  Ouf  I  It's  given  me  a  head- 
ache. .  .  .  [Breathing  heavily]  1  tell  you  once  more  .  .  . 
do  you  hear  me  ?  If  you  don't  get  out  of  this,  you  old 
devil,  I'll   grind   you    into  powder '      I've    got    such    a 


THE    ANNIVERSARY  123 

character  that  I'm  perfectly  capable  of  laming  you  for 
life  !     I  can  commit  a  crime  ! 

Merchutkina.  I've  heard  barking  dogs  before.  I'm 
not  afraid.     I've  seen  the  like  of  you  before. 

Кшкш.  [In  despair]  I  can't  stand  it !  I'm  ill !  I 
can't !  [Sits  down  at  his  desk]  They've  let  the  Bank  get 
filled  with  women,  and  I  can't  finish  my  report !     I  can't. 

Merchutkina.  I  don't  want  anybody  else's  money, 
but  my  own,  according  to  law.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself !  Sitting  in  a  government  office  in  felt 
boots.  .  .  . 

Enter  Shipuchin  and  Tatiana  Alexeyevna. 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  [Following  her  husband]  We 
spent  the  evening  at  the  Berezhnitskys.  Katya  was 
wearing  a  sky-blue  frock  of  foulard  silk,  cut  low  at  the 
neck.  .  .  .  She  looks  very  well  with  her  hair  done  over 
her  head,  and  I  did  her  hair  myself.  .  .  .  She  was  per- 
fectly fascinating.  .  .  . 

SmpucHiN.  [Who  has  had  enough  of  it  already]  Yes, 
yes  .  .  .  fascinating.  .  .  .  They  may  be  here  any 
moment.  .  .  . 

Merchutkina.  Your  excellency ! 

Shipuchin.  [Dully]  What  else  ?     What  do  you  want  ? 

Merchutkina.  Your  excellency !  [Points  to  Khirin] 
This  man  .  .  .  this  man  tapped  the  table  with  his  finger, 
and  then  his  head.  •  .  .  You  told  him  to  look  after  my 
affair,  but  he  insults  me  and  says  all  sorts  of  things.  I'm 
a  weak,  defenceless  woman.  .  .  . 

Shipuchin.  All  right,  madam,  I'll  see  to  it  .  .  .  and 
take  the  necessary  steps.  ...  Go  away  now  .  .  .  later 
on  !  [Aside]  My  gout's  coming  on  ! 

Khirin.  [In     a     low     tone     to     Shipuchin]  Audrey 


124  THE    ANNIVERSARY 

Andreyevitch,  send  for  the  hall-porter  and  have  her  turned 
out  neck  and  crop  !     What  else  can  we  do  ? 

SmpucHiN.  [Frightened]  No,  no  !  She'll  kick  up  a  row 
and  we  aren't  the  only  people  in  the  building. 

Merchutkina.  Your  excellency. 

Khirin.  [In  a  tearful  voice]  But  I've  got  to  finish  my 
report !     I  won't  have  time  !     I  won't ! 

Merchutkina.  Your  excellency,  when  shall  I  have  the 
money  ?     I  want  it  now. 

SniPucmN.  [Aside,  in  dismay]  A  re-mark-ab-Iy  beastly 
woman  !  [Politely]  Madam,  I've  already  told  you,  this  is 
a  bank,  a  private,  commercial  concern. 

Merchutkina.  Be  a  father  to  me,  your  excellency.  .  .  . 
If  the  doctor's  certificate  isn't  enough,  I  can  get  you 
another  from  the  police.    Tell  them  to  give  me  the  money  ! 

Shipuchin.  [Panting]  Ouf ! 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  [To  Merchutkina]  Mother, 
haven't  you  abeady  been  told  that  you're  disturbing 
them  ?     What  right  have  you  ? 

Merchutkina,  Mother,  beautiful  one,  nobody  will  help 
me.  All  I  do  is  to  eat  and  drink,  and  just  now  I  didn't 
enjoy  my  cofiee  at  all. 

Shipuchin.  [Exhausted]  How  much  do  you  want  I 

Merchutkina.  24  roubles  36  copecks. 

Shipuchin.  All  right !  [Takes  a  25-roiible  note  out  of  his 
pocket-book  and  gives  it  to  her]  Here  are  25  roubles.  Take 
it  and  ...  go  ! 

Khirin  coughs  angrily. 

Merchutkina.  I  thank  you  very  humbly,  your  ex- 
cellency. [Hides  the  money. 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  [Sds  by  her  husband]  It's  time 
I  went  home.  .  .  .  [Looks  at  watch]  But  I  haven't  done 
yet.  .  .  .  I'll  finish   in   one   minute   and   go  away.  .  .  . 


THE    ANNIVERSARY  125 

What  a  time  we  had !  Yes,  what  a  time  1  We  went  to 
spend  the  evening  at  the  Berezhnitskys.  ...  It  was  all 
right,  quite  fun,  but  nothing  in  particular.  .  .  .  Katya's 
devoted  Grendilevsky  was  there,  of  course.  .  .  .  Well, 
I  talked  to  Katya,  cried,  and  induced  her  to  talk  to 
Grendilevsky  and  refuse  him.  Well,  I  thought,  every- 
thing's settled  the  best  possible  way  ;  I've  quieted  mamma 
down,  saved  Katya,  and  can  be  quiet  myself.  .  .  .  What 
do  you  think  ?  Katya  and  I  were  going  along  the  avenue, 
just  before  supper,  and  suddenly  .  .  .  [Excitedly]  And 
suddenly  we  heard  a  shot.  .  .  .  No,  I  can't  talk  about  it 
calmly  !  [Waves  her  handkerchief]  No,  I  can't ! 

SmpucmN.  [Sighs]  Ouf  I 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  [PFe€ps]  We  ran  to  the  summer- 
house,  and  there  .  .  .  there  poor  Grendilevsky  was 
lying  .  .  .  with  a  pistol  in  his  hand.  .  .  . 

SmpucmN.  No,  I  can't  stand  this !  I  can't  stand  it ! 
[To  Merchutkina]  What  else  do  you  want  ? 

Merchutkina.  Your  excellency,  can't  my  husband  go 
back  to  his  job  1 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  [Weeping]  He'd  shot  himself 
right  in  the  heart  .  .  .  here.  .  .  .  And  the  poor  man  had 
fallen  down  senseless.  .  .  .  And  he  was  awfully  frightened, 
as  he  lay  there  .  .  .  and  asked  for  a  doctor.  A  doctor 
came  soon  .  .  .  and  saved  the  unhappy  man.  .  .  . 

Merchutkina.  Your  excellency,  can't  my  husband  go 
back  to  his  job  1 

SmPucfflN.  No,  I  can't  stand  this !  [Weeps]  I  can't 
stand  it !  [Stretches  out  both  his  hands  in  despair  to 
KmRiNJ  Drive  her  away  !  Drive  her  away,  I  implore 
you  ! 

KmRiN.  [Goes  up  to  Tatiana  Alexeyevna]  Get  out  of 
this  ! 


126  THE    ANNIVERSARY 

SmpucHiN.  Not  her,  but  this  one  .  .  .  this  awful 
woman.  .  .  .  [Poi7its]  That  one ! 

Khirin.  [Not  understanding,  to  Tatiana  Alexeyevna] 
Get  out  of  this  !  [Stamfs]  Get  out ! 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  What  ?  What  are  you  doing  ? 
Have  you  taken  leave  of  your  senses  ? 

Shipuchin.  It's  awful  ?  I'm  a  miserable  man  !  Drive 
her  out !     Out  with  her  ! 

KmRiN.  [To  Tatiana  Alexeyevna]  Out  of  it !  I'll 
cripple  you  !  I'll  knock  you  out  of  shape  !  I'll  break  the 
law ! 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  {Running  from  him ;  he  chase* 
her]  How  dare  you !  You  impudent  fellow !  [Shouts] 
Audrey  !     Help  !    Audrey  !  [Screams. 

SHiPUCmN.  [Chasing  them]  Stop  !  I  implore  you  !  Not 
such  a  noise  ?     Have  pity  on  me  ! 

KmRiN.  [Chasing  Merchutkina]  Out  of  this !  Catch 
her  !    Hit  her  !    Cut  her  into  pieces  ! 

SmPUCfflN.  [Shouts]  Stop  !    I  ask  you  !    I  implore  you  ! 

Merchutkina.  Little  fathers  .  .  .  little  fathers !  .  .  . 
[Screams]  Little  fathers  !  .  .  . 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  [Shouts]  Help  !  Help  !  .  .  .Oh, 
oh  .  .  .  I'm  sick,  I'm  sick  ! 

Jumps  on  to  a  chair,  then  falls  on  to  the  sofa  ayid 
groans  as  if  in  a  faint. 

KfflRiN.  [Chasing  Merchutkina]  Hit  her !  Beat  her  ! 
Cut  her  to  pieces  ! 

Merchutkina.  Oh,  oh  .  .  .  little  fathers,  it's  all  dark 
before  me !  Ah  !  [Falls  senseless  into  Shipuchin's  arms. 
There  is  a  knock  at  the  door  ;  a  Voice  announces  The  Depu- 
tion]  The  deputation  .  .  .  reputation  .  .  .  occupation  .  .  . 

Khirin.  [Stamps]  Get  out  of  it,  devil  take  me !  [Txirns 
up  his  sleeves]  Give  her  to  me  :  I  may  break  the  law  ; 


THE    ANNIVERSARY  127 

Л  deputation  of  five  men  enters  ;  they  all  wear  frocJc- 
coats.  One  carries  the  velvet-covered  address, 
another,  the  loving-cup.  Employees  look  in  at  the 
door,  from  the  public  department.  Tatiana  Alexe- 
YEVNA  on  the  sofa,  and  Merchutkina  in  Shipu- 
cmN's  arms  are  both  groaning. 

One  of  the  Deputation.  [Reads  aloud]  "  Deeply- 
respected  and  dear  Andrey  Andreyevitch  !  Throwing  a 
retrospective  glance  at  the  past  history  of  our  financial  ad- 
ministration, and  reviewing  in  our  minds  its  gradual  develop- 
ment, we  receive  an  extremely  satisfactory  impression.  It 
is  true  that  in  the  first  period  of  its  existence,  the  incon- 
siderable amount  of  its  capital,  and  the  absence  of  serious 
operations  of  any  description,  and  also  the  indefinite  aims 
of  this  bank,  made  us  attach  an  extreme  importance  to  the 
question  raised  by  Hamlet, '  To  be  or  not  to  be,'  and  at  one 
time  there  were  even  voices  to  be  heard  demanding  our 
liquidation.  But  at  that  moment  you  become  the  head  of 
our  concern.  Your  knowledge,  energies,  and  your  native 
tact  were  the  causes  of  extraordinary  success  and  widespread 
extension.  The  reputation  of  the  bank  .  .  .  [Coughs]  re- 
putation of  the  bank  .  .  . 

]\Ierchutkina.  [Groans]  Oh  !    Oh  ! 

Tatiana  Alexeyevna.  [Groans]  Water  !    Water  ! 

The  Member  of  the  Deputation.  [Continues]  The 
reputation  [Coughs]  .  .  .  the  reputation  of  the  bink  has 
been  raised  by  you  to  such  a  height  that  we  are  now  the 
rivals  of  the  best  foreign  concerns. 

Shipuchin.  Deputation  .  .  .  reputation  .  .  .  occupa- 
tion. .  .  .  Two  friends  that  had  a  walk  at  night,  held  con- 
verse by  the  pale  moonlight.  ...  Oh  tell  me  not,  that 
youth  is  vain,  that  jealousy  has  turned  my  brain. 

The  Member  of  the  Deputation.  [Continues  in  con- 


128  THE    ANNIVERSARY 

fusion]  Then,  throwing  an  objective  glance  at  the  present 
condition  of  things,  we,  deeply  respected  f\nd  dear  Andrey 
Andreyevitch  .  .  .  [Lowering  his  voice]  In  that  case,  we'll 
do  it  later  on.  .  .  .  Yes,  later  on.  .  .  ." 

[Deputation  goes  out  in  conjusiov . 

Curtain. 


THE   THREE   SISTEKS 

A    DRAMA    IN    FOUR   ACTS 


CHARACTERS 

Andp.ey  Sergeyevitch  Prosorov 

Natalia  Ivanovna  (Natasha),  his  fiancee,  later  his  uife  (28) 

Olqa  л 

Masha  \his  sisters 

Irina  ^ 

Feodor  Ilitch  Kuligin,  high    school  teacher,  married  to 

Masha  (20) 
Alexander  Ignateyevitch  Vershinin,  lieutenant-colond 

in  charge  of  a  battery  (42) 
NicoLAi  LvoviTCH  Tuzenbach,  baron,    lieutenayit  in  the 

army  (30) 
Vassili  Vassilevitch  Soleni,  captain 
Ivan  Komanovitch  Chebutikin,  army  doctor  (60) 
Alexey  Petrovitch  Fedotik,  sub-lieutenant 
Vladimir  Carlo vitch  Eode,  sub-lieutenant 
Ferapont,  door-Jceeper  at  local  council  offices,  an  old  man 
Anfisa,  nurse  (80) 

The  action  lakes  place  in  a  provincial  town. 
[Ages  are  stated  iu  brackets.] 


THE   THREE   SISTERS 


ACT   I 

In  Prosorov's  house.  A  sitting-room  with  pillars  ;  behind 
is  seen  a  large  dining-room.  It  is  midday,  the  sun  is 
shining  brightly  outside.  In  the  dining-room  the  table 
is  being  laid  for  lunch. 

Olga,  in  the  regulation  blue  dress  of  a  teacher  at  a  girl's 
high  school,  is  walking  about  correcting  exercise  books ; 
Masha,  in  a  black  dress,  with  a  hat  on  her  knees,  sits  and 
reads  a  hook ;  Irina,  in  white,  stands  about,  with  a 
thoughtful  expression. 

Olga.  It's  just  a  year  since  father  died  last  May  the 
fifth,  on  your  name-day,  Irina.  It  was  very  cold  then;  and 
snowing.  I  thought  I  would  never  survive  it,  and  you  were 
in  a  dead  faint.  And  now  a  year  has  gone  by  and  we  are 
already  thinking  about  it  without  pain,  and  you  are  wearing 
a  white  dress  and  your  face  is  happy.  [Clock  strikes  twelve] 
And  the  clock  struck  just  the  same  way  then.  [Pause]  I 
remember  that  there  was  music  at  the  funeral,  and  they 
fired  a  volley  in  the  cemetery.  He  was  a  general  in  com- 
mand of  a  brigade  but  there  were  few  people  present.  Of 
course,  it  was  raining  then,  raining  hard,  and  snowing. 

Irina.  Why  think  about  it ! 

Baron  Tuzenbach,  Chebutikin  and  Soleni  appear 
by  the  table  in  the  dining-room,  behind  the  pillars- 
131 


182        THE    THREE    SISTERS      act  i 

Olqa.  It's  so  warm  to-day  that  we  can  keep  the  windowa 
open,  though  the  birches  are  not  yet  in  flower.  Father  was 
put  in  command  of  a  brigade,  and  he  rode  out  of  Moscow 
with  us  eleven  years  ago.  I  remember  perfectly  that  it  was 
early  in  May  and  that  everything  in  Moscow  was  flowering 
then.  It  was  warm  too,  everything  was  bathed  in  sun- 
shine. Eleven  years  have  gone,  and  I  remember  everything 
aa  if  we  rode  out  only  yesterday.  Oh,  God  !  When  I 
awoke  this  morning  and  saw  all  the  light  and  the  spring, 
joy  entered  my  heart,  and  I  longed  passionately  to  go 
home. 

Chebutikin.  Will  you  take  a  bet  on  it  ? 

TuzENBACH.  Oh,  nonsense. 

Masha,   lost   in   a  reverie  over   her   book,   whistles 
softly. 

Olga.  Don't  whistle,  Masha.  How  can  you !  [Pause] 
I'm  always  having  headaches  from  having  to  go  to  the 
High  School  every  day  and  then  teach  till  evening.  Strange 
thoughts  come  to  me,  as  if  I  were  already  an  old  woman. 
And  really,  during  these  four  years  that  I  have  been  working 
here,  I  have  been  feeling  as  if  every  day  my  strength  and 
youth  have  been  squeezed  out  of  me,  drop  by  drop  And 
only  one  desire  grows  and  gains  in  strength  .  .  . 

Irina.  To  go  away  to  Moscow.  To  sell  the  house,  drop 
everything  here,  and  go  to  Moscow.  . 

Olqa.  Yes !  To  Moscow,  and  as  soon  as  possible. 
Chebutikin  and  Tuzenbach  laugh. 

Irina.  I  expect  Audrey  упМ  become  a  professor,  but  still, 
he  won't  want  to  live  here.  Only  poor  Masha  must  go  on 
living  here. 

Olqa.  Masha  can  come  to  Moscow  every  year,  for  the 
whole  summer. 

Masha  is  whistling  gently. 


ACT  I      THE    THREE    SISTERS         138 

Irina.  Everything  will  be  arranged,  please  God.  [Looks 
out  of  the  window]  It's  nice  out  to-day.  I  don't  know  why 
I'm  so  happy  :  I  remembered  this  morning  that  it  was 
my  name-day,  and  I  suddenly  felt  glad  and  remembered 
my  childhood,  when  mother  was  still  with  us.  What 
beautiful  thoughts  I  had,  what  thoughts  ! 

Olga.  You're  all  radiance  to-day,  I've  never  seen  you 
look  so  lovely.  And  Masha  is  pretty,  too.  Audrey 
wouldn't  be  bad-looking,  if  he  wasn't  so  stout ;  it  does  spoil 
his  appearance.  But  I've  grown  old  and  very  thin,  I 
suppose  it's  because  I  get  angry  with  the  girls  at  school. 
To-day  I'm  free.  I'm  at  home.  I  haven't  got  a  headache, 
and  I  feel  younger  than  I  was  yesterday.  I'm  only  twenty- 
eight.  .  .  .  All's  well,  God  is  everywhere,  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  if  only  I  were  married  and  could  stay  at  home  all  day, 
it  would  be  even  better.  [Pause]  I  should  love  my  husband. 

TuzENBACH.  [To  SoLENi]  I'm  tired  of  listening  to  the  rot 
you  talk.  [Entering  the  sitting-room]  I  forgot  to  say  that 
Vershinin,  our  new  lieutenant-colonel  of  artillery,  is  coming 
to  see  us  to-day.  [Sits  down  to  the  piano. 

Olga.  That's  good.    I'm  glad. 

Irina.  Is  he  old  ? 

TuzENBACH.  Oh,  no.  Forty  or  forty-five,  at  the  very 
outside.  [Plays  softly]  He  seems  rather  a  good  sort.  He's 
certainly  no  fool,  only  he  likes  to  hear  himself  speak. 

Irina.  Is  he  interesting  ? 

TuzENBACH.  Oh,  he's  all  right,  but  there's  his  wife,  his 
mother-in-law,  and  two  daughters.  This  is  his  second 
wife.  He  pays  calls  and  tells  everybody  that  he's  got  a 
wife  and  two  daughters.  He'll  tell  you  so  here.  The  wife 
isn't  all  there,  she  does  her  hair  like  a  flapper  and  gushes 
extremely.  She  talks  philosophy  and  tries  to  commit 
suicide  every  now  and  again,  apparently  in  order  to  annov 


134         THE    THREE    SISTERS       лет  i 

her  husband.  I  should  have  left  her  long  ago,  but  he  bears 
up  patiently,  and  just  grumbles, 

SoLENi.  [Enters  with  СпЕвитхкш  from  the  dining-room] 
With  one  hand  I  can  only  lift  fifty-four  pounds,  but  with 
both  hands  I  can  lift  180,  or  even  200  pounds.  From  this  I 
conclude  that  two  men  are  not  twice  as  strong  as  one,  but 
three  times,  perhaps  even  more.  .  .  . 

Chebutikin.  [Reads  a  newspaper  as  he  walks]  If  your 
hair  is  coming  out  .  .  .  take  an  ounce  of  naphthaline  and 
half  a  bottle  of  spirit  .  .  .  dissolve  and  use  daily.  .  .  . 
[Makes  a  note  in  his  pocket  diary]  When  found  make  a  note 
of  !  Not  that  I  want  it  though.  .  .  .  [Crosses  it  out]  It 
doesn't  matter. 

Irina.  Ivan  Romanovitch,  dear  Ivan  Romanovitch  ! 

Chebutikin.  What  does  my  own  little  girl  want  ? 

Irina.  Ivan  Romanovitch,  dear  Ivan  Romanovitch  !  I 
feel  as  if  I  were  sailing  under  the  broad  blue  sky  with  great 
white  birds  around  me.     Why  is  that  ?     Why  ? 

Chebutikin.  [Kisses  her  hands,  tenderly]  My  white 
bird.  .  .  . 

Irina.  When  I  woke  up  to-day  and  got  up  and  dressed 
myself,  I  suddenly  began  to  feel  as  if  everything  in  this  life 
was  open  to  me,  and  that  I  knew  how  I  must  live.  Dear 
Ivan  Romanovitch,  I  know  everything.  A  man  must  work, 
toil  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  whoever  he  may  be,  for  that 
is  the  meaning  and  object  of  his  life,  his  happiness,  his 
enthusiasm.  How  fine  it  is  to  be  a  workman  who  gets  up 
at  daybreak  and  breaks  stones  in  the  street,  or  a  shepherd, 
or  a  schoolmaster,  who  teaches  children,_or  an  engine-driver 
on  the  railway.  •  .  .  My  God,  let  alone  a  man,  it's  better  to 
be  an  ox,  or  just  a  horse,  so  long  as  it  can  work,  than  a 
young  woman  who  wakes  up  at  twelve  o'clock,  has  her 
сойее  in  bed,  and  then  spends  two  hours  dressing.  .  .  . 


ACT  I      THE    THREE    SISTERS         135 

Oh  it's  awful !  Sometimes  when  it's  hot,  your  thirst  can 
be  just  as  tiresome  as  my  need  for  work.  And  if  I  don't 
get  up  early  in  future  and  work,  Ivan  Romanovitch,  then 
you  may  refuse  me  your  friendship. 

Chebutikin.  [Tenderly]  I'll  refuse,  I'll  refuse.  .  .  . 

Olga.  Father  used  to  make  us  get  up  at  seven.  Now 
Irina  wakes  at  seven  and  lies  and  meditates  about  something 
till  nine  at  least.     And  she  looks  so  serious  !  [Laughs. 

Irina.  You're  so  used  to  seeing  me  as  a  little  girl  that 
it  seems  queer  to  you  when  my  face  is  serious.    I'm  twenty  ! 

TuzENBACH.  How  well  I  can  understand  that  craving  for 
work,  oh  God  !  I've  never  worked  once  in  my  life.  I  was 
born  in  Petersburg,  a  chilly,  lazy  place,  in  a  family  which 
never  knew  what  work  or  worry  meant.  I  remember  that 
when  I  used  to  come  home  from  my  regiment,  a  footman 
used  to  have  to  pull  off  my  boots  while  I  fidgeted  and  my 
mother  looked  on  in  adoration  and  wondered  why  other 
people  didn't  see  me  in  the  same  light.  They  shielded  me 
from  work  ;  but  only  just  in  time  !  A  new  age  is  dawning, 
the  people  are  marching  on  us  all,  a  powerful,  health-giving 
storm  is  gathering,  it  is  drawing  near,  soon  it  will  be  upon 
us  and  it  will  drive  away  laziness,  indifferei  ce,  the  prejudice 
against  labour,  and  rotten  dullness  from  our  society.  I 
shall  work,  and  in  twenty-five  or  thirty  years,  every  man 
will  have  to  work.     Every  one  ! 

Chebutikin.  I  shan't  work. 

TuzENBACH.  You  don't  matter. 

SoLENi.  In  twenty-five  years'  time,  we  shall  all  be  dead, 
thank  the  Lord.  In  two  or  three  years'  time  apoplexy  will 
carry  you  off,  or  else  I'll  blow  your  brains  out,  my  pet. 

Takes  a  scent-bottle  out  of  his  pocJcet  and  sprinkles  his 
chest  and  hands. 

Chebutikin.  [Laгlghs]  It's   quite   true,    I    never   have 


13G         THE    THREE    SISTERS      act  i 

worked.  After  I  came  down  from  the  university  I  never 
stirred  a  finger  or  opened  a  book,  I  just  read  the  papers.  .  .  . 
[TakesanothernewspaperoutofhisjJOcJcet]  Here  we  are.  .  .  . 
I've  learnt  from  the  papers  that  there  used  to  be  one, 
Dobrolubov,*  for  instance,  but  what  he  wrote — I  don't 
know  .  .  .  God  only  knows.  .  .  .  [Somebody  is  heard 
taffing  on  the  floor  from  below]  There.  .  .  .  They're  calling 
me  downstairs,  somebody's  come  to  see  me.  I'll  be  back  in  a 
minute  .  .  .  won't  be  long.  .  .  . 

[Exit  hurriedly,  scratching  his  beard. 

Irina.  He's  up  to  something. 

TuzENBACH.  Yes,  he  looked  so  pleased  as  he  went  out 
that  I'm  pretty  certain  he'll  bring  you  a  present  in  a 
moment. 

Irina.  How  unpleasant ! 

Olga.  Yes,  it's  awful.     He's  always  doing  silly  things. 

Masha.  *'  There  stands  a  green  oak  by  the  sea. 

And  a  chain  of  bright  gold  is  around  it  .  .  . 
And  a  chain  of  bright  gold  is  around  it.  .  .  ." 
[Gets  up  and  sings  softly. 

Olga.  You're  not  very  bright  to-day,  Masha.  [Masha 
sings,  putting  on  her  hat]  Where  are  you  oS  to  ? 

Masha.  Home. 

Irina.  That's  odd.  .  .  . 

TuzENBACH.  On  a  name-day,  too  ! 

Masha.  It  doesn't  matter.  I'll  come  in  the  evening. 
Good-bye,  dear.  [Kisses  Irina]  Many  happy  returns, 
though  I've  said  it  before.  In  the  old  days  when  father  was 
alive,  every  time  we  had  a  name-day,  thirty  or  forty  officers 
used  to  come,  and  there  was  lots  of  noise  and  fun,  and 
to-day  there's  only  a  man  and  a  half,  and  it's  as  quiet  as  a 

*  Dobrolubov  (1836-61),  in  spite  of  the  shortness  of  his  career, 
established  himself  as  one  of  the  classic  literary  critics  of  Russia. 


ACT  I      THE    THREE    SISTERS         137 

desert  .  .  .  I'm  off  .  .  .  I've  got  the  hump  to-day,  and 
am  not  at  all  cheerful,  so  don't  you  mind  me.  [Laughs 
through  her  tears]  We'll  have  a  talk  later  on,  but  good-bye 
for  the  present,  my  dear  ;  I'll  go  somewhere. 

Irina.  [Dis'pleased]  You  are  queer.  .  .  . 

Olga.  [Crying]  I  understand  you,  Masha. 

SoLENi.  When  a  man  talks  philosophy,  well,  it  is  philo- 
sophy or  at  any  rate  sophistry  ;  but  when  a  woman,  or  two 
women,  talk  philosophy — it's  all  my  eye. 

Masha.  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  you  very  awful 


man 


Solent.  Oh,  nothing.  You  came  down  on  me  before  I 
could  say  .  .  .  help  !  [Pause. 

Masha.  [Angrily,  to  Olga]  Don't  cry  ! 

Enter  Anfisa  and  Feeapont  u/ith  a  caJce. 

Anfisa.  This  way,  my  dear.  Come  in,  your  feet  are 
clean.  [To  Irina]  From  the  District  Council,  from  Mihail 
Ivanitch  Protopopov  ...  a  cake. 

Irina.  Thank  you.    Please  thank  him.     [Talces  tlie  caTce. 

Ferapont.  What  ? 

Irina.  [Louder]  Please  thank  him. 

Olga.  Give  him  a  pie,  nurse.  Ferapont,  go,  she'll  give 
you  a  pie. 

Ferapont.  What  1 

Anfisa.  Come  on,  gran'fer,  Ferapont  Spiridonitch.  Come 
on.  [Exeunt. 

Masha.  I  don't  like  this  Mihail  Potapitch  or  Ivanitch, 
protopopov.     We  oughtn't  to  invite  him  here. 

Irina.  I  never  asked  him. 

Masha.  That's  all  right. 

Enter  Chebutikin  followed  by  a  soldier  with  a  silver 
samovar  ;  there  is  a  rumble  of  dissatisfied  surprise. 

Olga.  [Covers   her  face   with   her   hands]  A   samovar ! 


138         THE    THREE    SISTERS      лет  i 

That's  awful !         [Exit  into  the  dining-room,  to  the  table. 

luiNA.  My  dear  Ivan  Romanovitch,  what  are  you  doing  I 

TuzENBACH.  [Laughs]  I  told  you  so  ! 

Мазпа.  Ivan  Ilomanovitch,  you  are  simply  shameless  ! 

Chebutikin.  My  dear  good  girl,  you  are  the  only  thing, 
and  the  dearest  thing  I  have  in  the  world.  I'll  soon  be 
sixty.  I'm  an  old  man,  a  lonely  worthless  old  man.  The 
only  good  thing  in  me  is  my  love  for  you,  and  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  that,  I  would  have  been  dead  long  ago.  .  .  .  [To 
Irina]  My  dear  little  girl,  I've  known  you  since  the  day  of 
your  birth,  I've  carried  you  in  my  arms  ...  I  loved  your 
dead  mother.  .  .  . 

Masha.  But  your  presents  are  so  expensive  ! 

Chebutikin.  [Angrily,    through     his    tears]   Expensive 

presents.  .  .  .  You  really  are  !  .  .  .  [To  the  orderly]  Take 

the  samovar  in  there.  .  .  .  [Teasing]  Expensive  presents  ! 

The  orderly  goes  into  the  dining-room  with  the  samovar. 

Anfisa.  [Enters  and  crosses  stage]  My  dear,  there's  a 
strange  Colonel  come  !  He's  taken  ой  his  coat  already. 
Children,  he's  coming  here.  Irina  darling,  you'll  be  a  nice 
and  polite  little  girl,  won't  you.  .  .  .  Should  have  lunched 
a  long  time  ago.  .  .  .  Oh,  Lord.  .  .  .  [Exit. 

TuzENBACH.  It  must  be  Vershinin.  [Enter  Vershixin] 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Vershinin  ! 

Vershinin.  [To  Masha  aiid  Irina]  I  have  the  honour  to 
introduce  myself,  my  name  is  Vershinin.  I  am  very  glad 
indeed  to  be  able  to  come  at  last.  How  you've  grown  ! 
Oh!  oh! 

Irina.  Please  sit  down.  We're  very  glad  you've  come. 

Vershinin.  [Gaily]  I  am  glad,  very  glad  !  But  there 
are  three  sisters,  surely.  I  remember — three  little  girls. 
I  forget  your  faces,  but  your  father.  Colonel  Prosorov,  used 
to  have  three  little  girls,  I  remember  that  perfectly,  I  saw 


ACT  I      THE    THREE    SISTERS         139 

them  with  my  own  eyes.  How  time  does  fly  !  Oh,  dear, 
how  it  flies  ! 

TuzENBACH.  Alexander  Ignateyevitch  comes  from  Mos- 
cow. 

Irina.  From  Moscow  ?     Are  you  from  Moscow  ? 

Vershinin.  Yes,  that's  so.  Your  father  used  to  be  in 
charge  of  a  battery  there,  and  I  was  an  officer  in  the  same 
brigade.  [To  ]\L\sha]  I  seem  to  remember  your  face  a  little. 

Masha.  I  don't  remember  you. 

Irina.  Olga  !  Olga  !  [Shouts  into  the  dining-room]  Olga  ! 
Come  along  !  [Olga  enters  from  the  dining-rooni]  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Vershinin  comes  from  Moscow,  as  it  happens. 

VERSmNiN.  I  take  it  that  you  are  Olga  Sergeyevna,  the 
eldest,  and  that  you  are  Maria  .  .  .  and  you  are  Irina,  the 
youngest.  .  .  . 

Olga.  So  you  come  from  Moscow  ? 

VERSmNiN.  Yes.  I  went  to  school  in  Moscow  and  began 
my  service  there  ;  I  was  there  for  a  long  time  until  at  last 
I  got  my  battery  and  moved  over  here,  as  you  see.  I  don't 
really  remember  you,  I  only  remember  that  there  used  to 
be  three  sisters.  I  remember  your  father  well ;  I  have 
only  to  shut  my  eyes  to  see  him  as  he  was.  I  used  to  come 
to  your  house  in  Moscow.  .  .  . 

Olga.  I  used  to  think  I  remembered  everybody,  but  .  .  . 

VERSmNiN.  My  name  is  Alexander  Ignateyevitch. 

Irina.  Alexander  Ignateyevitch,  you've  come  from 
Moscow.     That  is  really  quite  a  surprise  ! 

Olga.  We  are  going  to  live  there,  you  see. 

Irina.  We  think  we  may  be  there  this  autumn.  It's 
our  native  town,  we  were  born  there.  In  Old  Basmanni 
Road.  .  .  .  [They  both  laugh  for  joy. 

Masha.  We've  unexpectedly  met  a  fellow  countryman. 
[Briskly]  I   remember :     Do   you   remember,    Olga,   they 


140         THE    THREE    SISTERS      act  i 

used  to  speak  at  home  of  a  "  lovelorn  Major."  You  were 
only  a  Lieutenant  then,  and  in  love  with  somebody,  but  for 
Bomc  reason  they  always  called  you  a  Major  for  fun. 

Vershinin.  [Laughs]  That's  it  .  .  .  the  lovelorn  Major, 
that's  got  it ! 

Masha.  You  only  wore  moustaches  then.  You  have 
grown  older  !  [Through  her  tears]  You  have  grown  older  ! 

Vershinin.  Yes,  when  they  used  to  call  me  the  lovelorn 
Major,  I  was  young  and  in  love,  I've  grown  out  of  both 
now. 

Olga.  But  you  haven't  a  single  white  hair  yet.  You're 
older,  but  you're  not  yet  old. 

VERsmNiN.  I'm  forty-two,  anyway.  Have  you  been 
away  from  Moscow  long  1 

Irina.  Eleven  years.  What  are  you  crying  for,  Masha, 
you  little  fool.  .  .  .  [Crying]  And  I'm  crying  too. 

Masha.  It's  all  right.    And  where  did  you  live  ? 

Vershinin.  Old  Basmanni  Road. 

Olga.  Same  as  we. 

Vershinin.  Once  I  used  to  live  in  German  Street.  That 
was  when  the  Red  Barracks  were  my  headquarters.  There's 
an  ugly  bridge  in  between,  where  the  water  rushes  under- 
neath. One  gets  melancholy  when  one  is  alone  there. 
[Pause]  Here  the  river  is  so  wide  and  fine  !  It's  a  splendid 
river  ! 

Olga.  Yes,  but  it's  so  cold.  It's  very  cold  here,  and  the 
midges.  .  .  . 

Vershinin.  What  are  you  saying !  Here  you've  got 
euch  a  fine  healthy  Russian  climate.  Y'ou've  a  forest,  a 
river  .  •  .  and  birches.  Dear,  modest  birches,  I  like  them 
more  than  any  other  tree.  It's  good  to  live  here.  Only  it's 
odd  that  the  railway  station  should  be  thirteen  miles  away. 
.  .  .  Nobody  knows  why. 


ACT  I      THE    THREE    SISTERS         141 

SoLENi.  I  know  why.  [All  look  at  Am]  Because  if  it  was 
near  it  wouldn't  be  far  ofi,  and  if  it's  far  off,  it  can't  be  near. 

[An  awkward  pause. 

TuzENBACH.  Funny  man. 

Olga.  Now  I  know  who  you  are.    I  remember. 

VERsmNiN.  I  used  to  know  your  mother. 

Chebutikin,  She  was  a  good  woman,  rest  her  soul. 

Irina.  Mother  is  buried  in  Moscow. 

Olga.  At  the  Novo-Devichi  Cemetery. 

Masha.  Do  you  know,  I'm  beginning  to  forget  her  face. 
We'll  be  forgotten  in  just  the  same  way. 

VERsmNiN.  Yes,  they'll  forget  us.  It's  our  fate,  it  can't 
be  helped.  A  time  will  come  when  everything  that  seems 
serious,  significant,  or  very  important  to  us  will  be  forgotten, 
or  considered  trivial.  [Pause]  And  the  curious  thing  is  that 
we  can't  possibly  find  out  what  will  come  to  be  regarded 
as  great  and  important,  and  what  will  be  feeble,  or  silly. 
Didn't  the  discoveries  of  Copernicus,  or  Columbus,  say, 
seem  unnecessary  and  ludicrous  at  first,  while  wasn't  it 
thought  that  some  rubbish  written  by  a  fool,  held  all  the 
truth  ?  And  it  may  so  happen  that  our  present  existence, 
with  which  we  are  so  satisfied,  will  in  time  appear  strange, 
inconvenient,  stupid,  unclean,  perhaps  even  sinful.  .  .  . 

TuzENBACH.  Who  knows  1  But  on  the  other  hand,  they 
may  call  our  life  noble  and  honour  its  memory.  We've 
abolished  torture  and  capital  punishment,  we  live  in  security, 
but  how  much  suffering  there  is  still ! 

SoLENi.  [In  a  feeble  voice]  There,  there.  .  .  .  The  Baron 
will  go  without  his  dinner  if  you  only  let  him  talk  philosophy. 

TuzENBACH.  Vassili  Vassilevitch,  kindly  leave  me  alone. 
[Changes  his  chair]  You're  very  dull,  you  know. 

SoLENi.  [Feebly]  There,  there,  there. 

TuzENBACH.  [To    Vershinin]    The   sufferings   we    see 


142         Т  II  E    Т  II  R  E  E    S  I  S  Т  E  U  S      act  i 

to-day — there  are  so  many  of  them  ! — still  indicate  a  certain 
moral  improvement  in  society. 

Vershinin.  Yes,  yes,  of  course. 

CiiEBUTiKiN.  You  said  just  now,  Baron,  that  they  may 
call  our  life  noble  ;  but  we  are  very  petty.  .  .  .  [Stands  up] 
See  how  little  I  am.  [Violin  played  behind. 

Masha.  That's  Andrey  playing — our  brother. 

Irina.  He's  the  learned  member  of  the  family.  I  expect 
he  will  be  a  professor  some  day.  Father  was  a  soldier,  but 
his  son  chose  an  academic  career  for  himself. 

Masha.  That  was  father's  wish. 

Olga.  We  ragged  him  to-day.  We  think  he's  a  little  in 
love. 

Irina.  To  a  local  lady.  She  will  probably  come  here 
to-day. 

Masha.  You  should  see  the  way  she  dresses  !  Quite 
prettily,  quite  fashionably  too,  but  so  badly  !  Some  queer 
bright  yellow  skirt  with  a  wretched  little  fringe  and  a  red 
bodice.  And  such  a  complexion  !  Andrey  isn't  in  love. 
After  all  he  has  taste,  he's  simply  making  fun  of  us.  I 
heard  yesterday  that  she  was  going  to  marry  Protopopov, 
the  chairman  of  the  Local  Council.  That  would  do  her 
nicely.  .  .  .  [At  the  side  door]  Andrey,  come  here  !  Just 
for  a  minute,  dear  !  [Enter  Axdrey. 

Olga.  My  brother,  Andrey  Sergeyevitch. 

Vershinin.  My  name  is  Vershinin. 

Andrey.  Mine  is  Prosorov.  [Wipes  his  perspiring  hands] 
You've  come  to  take  charge  of  the  battery  ? 

Olga.  Just  think,  Alexander  Ignateyevitch  comes  from 
Moscow. 

Andrey.  That's  all  right.  Now  my  little  sisters  won't 
give  you  any  rest. 

Vershinin.  I've  already  managed  to  bore  your  sisters. 


ACT  I     THE    THREE    SISTERS         143 

Irina.  Just  look  what  a  nice  little  photograph  frame 
Andrey  gave  me  to-day.  [Shows  it]  He  made  it 
himself. 

Vershinin.  [Looks  at  the  frame  and  does  not  Jcnoiv  what  to 
say]  Yes.  .  .  .  It's  a  thing  that  .  .  . 

Irina.  And  he  made  that  frame  there,  on  the  piano  аз 
well.  [Andrey  waves  his  hand  and  walks  away. 

Olga.  He's  got  a  degree,  and  plays  the  violin,  and  cuts 
all  sorts  of  things  out  of  wood,  and  is  really  a  domestic 
Admirable  Crichton.  Don't  go  away,  Andrey  !  He's  got 
into  a  habit  of  always  going  away.    Come  here  ! 

Masha  and  Irina  take  his  arms  and  laughingly  lead 
him  back. 

Masha.  Come  on,  come  on  ! 

Andrey.  Please  leave  me  alone. 

Masha.  You  are  funny.  Alexander  Ignateyevitch  used 
to  be  called  the  lovelorn  Major,  but  he  never  minded. 

Vershinin.    Not  the  least. 

Masha.  I'd  like  to  call  you  the  lovelorn  fiddler  ! 

Irina.  Or  the  lovelorn  professor  ! 

Olga.  He's  in  love  !  little  Andrey  is  in  love  ! 

Irina.  [Afplauds]  Bravo,  bravo  !  Encore  !  Little  An- 
drey is  in  love. 

Chebutikin.  [Goes  up  behind  Andrey  and  takes  him 
round  the  waist  mth  both  arms]  Nature  only  brought  us 
into  the  world  that  we  should  love  ! 

Roars  with  laughter,  then  sits  down  and  reads  a  news- 
paper which  he  takes  out  of  his  pocket. 

Andrey.  That's  enough,  quite  enough.  .  .  .  [Wipes  his 
face]  I  couldn't  sleep  all  night  and  now  I  can't  quite  find  my 
feet,  so  to  speak.  I  read  until  four  o'clock,  then  tried  to 
sleep,  but  nothing  happened.  I  thought  about  one  thing 
and  another,  and  then  it  dawned  and  the  sun  crawled  into 


144         THE    THREE    SISTERS      act  i 

my  bedroom.  This  summer,  wliilo  I'm  here,  I  want  to 
translate  a  book  from  the  English.  .  .  . 

VERsniNiN.  Do  you  Tcad  English  ? 

Andrey.  Yes  ;  father,  rest  his  soul,  educated  us  almost 
violently.  It  may  seem  funny  and  silly,  but  it's  neverthe- 
less true,  that  after  his  death  I  began  to  fill  out  and  get 
rounder,  as  if  my  body  had  had  some  great  pressure  taken 
off  it.  Thanks  to  father,  my  sisters  and  I  know  French, 
German,  and  English,  and  Irina  knows  Italian  as  well.  But 
we  paid  dearly  for  it  all ! 

Masha.  a  knowledge  of  three  languages  is  an  unnecessary 
luxury  in  this  town.  It  isn't  even  a  luxury  but  a  sort  of 
useless  extra,  like  a  sixth  finger.     We  know  a  lot  too  much. 

VERSfflNiN.  Well,  I  say  !  [Laughs]  You  know  a  lot  too 
much  !  I  don't  think  there  can  really  be  a  town  so  dull 
and  stupid  as  to  have  no  place  for  a  clever,  cultured  person. 
Let  us  suppose  even  that  among  the  hundred  thousand 
inhabitants  of  this  backward  and  uneducated  town,  there 
are  only  three  persons  like  yourself.  It  stands  to  reason 
that  you  won't  be  able  to  conquer  that  dark  mob  around 
you  ;  little  by  little  as  you  grow  older  you  will  be  bound 
to  give  way  and  lose  yourselves  in  this  crowd  of  a  hundred 
thousand  human  beings  ;  their  life  wdll  suck  you  up  in  itself, 
but  still,  you  won't  disappear  having  influenced  nobody  ; 
later  on,  others  like  you  will  come,  perhaps  six  of  them,  then 
twelve,  and  so  on,  until  at  last  your  sort  will  be  in  the 
majority.  In  two  or  three  hundred  years'  time  life  on  this 
earth  will  be  unimaginably  beautiful  and  wonderful.  Man- 
kind needs  such  a  life,  and  if  it  is  not  ours  to-day  then  we 
must  look  ahead  for  it,  wait,  think,  prepare  for  it.  We  must 
see  and  know  more  than  our  fathers  and  grandfathers  saw 
and  knew.  [Laughs]  And  you  complain  that  you  know  too 
much. 


ACTi     THE    THREE    SISTERS         145 

Masha.  [Takes  off  her  hat]  I'll  stay  to  lunch. 

Irina.  [Sighs]  Yes,  all  that  ought  to  be  written  down. 
Andrey  has  gone  out  quietly. 

Tuzenbach.  You  say  that  many  years  later  on,  life 
on  this  earth  will  be  beautiful  and  wonderful.  That's  true. 
But  to  share  in  it  now,  even  though  at  a  distance,  we  must 
prepare  by  work.  .  .  . 

Yershinin.  [Gets  up]  Yes.  What  a  lot  of  flowers  you 
have.  [Looks  round]  It's  a  beautiful  flat.  I  envy  you  ! 
I've  spent  my  whole  life  in  rooms  with  two  chairs, 
one  sofa,  and  fires  which  always  smoke.  I've  never  had 
flowers  like  these  in  my  life.  .  .  .  [Rubs  his  hands]  Well, 
well! 

Tuzenbach.  Yes,  we  must  work.  You  are  probably 
thinking  to  j^urself  :  the  German  lets  himself  go.  But  I 
assure  you  I'm  a  Russian,  I  can't  even  speak  German.  My 
father  belonged  to  the  Orthodox  Church.  .  .  .  [Pause. 

Vershinin.  [Walks  about  the  stage]  I  often  wonder  :  sup- 
pose we  could  begin  life  over  again,  knowing  what  we  were 
doing  1  Suppose  we  could  use  one  life,  already  ended,  as  a 
sort  of  rough  draft  for  another  ?  I  think  that  every  one  of 
us  would  try,  more  than  anything  else,  not  to  repeat  himself, 
at  the  very  least  he  would  rearrange  his  manner  of  life, 
he  would  make  sure  of  rooms  like  these,  with  flowers  and 
light  ...  I  have  a  wife  and  two  daughters,  my  wife's 
health  is  delicate  and  so  on  and  so  on,  and  if  I  had  to  begin 
life  all  over  again  I  would  not  marry.  .  .  .  No,  no  ! 
Enter  KuLiGiN  in  a  regulation  jacket. 

KuLiGiN.  [Going  up  to  Irina]  Dear  sister,  allow  me  to 
congratulate  you  on  the  day  sacred  to  your  good  angel  and 
to  wish  you,  sincerely  and  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart, 
good  health  and  all  that  one  can  wibh  for  a  girl  of  у  cur 
years.     And  then  let  me  offer  you  this  book  as  a  present. 


14G         THE    THREE    SISTERS      act  i 

[Gives  it  to  her]  It  is  the  history  of  our  High  School  during 
the  last  fifty  years,  written  by  myself.  The  book  is  worth- 
less, and  written  because  I  had  nothing  to  do,  but  read  it 
all  the  same.  Good  day,  gentlemen  !  [To  Veushinin]  My 
name  is  Kuligin,  I  am  a  master  of  the  local  High  School.* 
[To  Irina]  In  this  book  you  will  find  a  list  of  all  those  who 
have  taken  the  full  coiu'se  at  our  High  School  during  these 
fifty  years.    Feci  quod  potui,  faciant  meliora  potentes. 

[Kisses  Masha. 

Irina.  But  you  gave  me  one  of  these  at  Easter. 

Kuligin.  [Laughs]  I  couldn't  have,  surely  !  You'd  better 
give  it  back  to  me  in  that  case,  or  else  give  it  to  the  Colonel. 
Take  it,  Colonel.  You'll  read  it  some  day  when  you're 
bored. 

Vershinin.  Thank  you.  [Prepares  to  go]  I  am  extremely 
happy  to  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  .  .  . 

Olga.  Must  you  go  ?     No,  not  yet  ? 

Irina.  You'll  stop  and  have  lunch  with  us.     Please  do. 

Olga.     Yes,  please  ! 

Vershinin.  [Bows]  I  seem  to  have  dropped  in  on  your 
name-day.  Forgive  me,  I  didn't  know,  and  I  didn't  оЯег 
you  my  congratulations.  .  .  . 

[Goes  with  Olga  into  the  dining-room. 

Kuligin.  To-day  is  Sunday,  the  day  of  rest,  so  let  us 
rest  and  rejoice,  each  in  a  manner  compatible  with  his  age 
and  disposition.  The  carpets  will  have  to  be  taken  up 
for  the  summer  and  put  away  till  the  winter  .  .  .  Persian 
powder  or  naphthaline.  .  .  .  The  Romans  were  healthy 
because  they  knew  both  how  to  work  and  how  to  rest,  they 
had  mens  sana  in  corpore  sajio.     Their  life  ran  along  certain 

*  He  adds  that  he  is  a  Nadvorny  Sovdnik  (almost  the  same  as  a 
German  Hofrat),  an  undistinguished  civilian  title  with  no  English 


ACT  I     THE    THREE    SISTERS         147 

recognized  patterns.  Our  director  says  :  "  The  chief  thing 
about  each  life  is  its  pattern.  Whoever  loses  his  pattern 
is  lost  himself " — and  it's  just  the  same  in  our  daily  life. 
[Takes  Masha  by  the  waist,  laugJiing]  Masha  loves  me.  My 
wife  loves  me.  And  you  ought  to  put  the  window  curtains 
away  with  the  carpets.  .  .  .  I'm  feeling  awfully  pleased 
with  life  to-day.  Masha,  we've  got  to  be  at  the  director's 
at  four.  They're  getting  up  a  walk  for  the  pedagogues  and 
their  families. 

Masha.  I  shan't  go. 

KuLiGiN.  [Hurt]  My  dear  Masha,  why  not  ? 

Masha.  I'll  tell  you  later.  .  .  .  [Angrily]  All  right,  I'll 
go,  only  please  stand  back.  .  .  .  [Steps  away. 

KuLiGiN.  And  then  we're  to  spend  the  evening  at  the 
director's.  In  spite  of  his  ill-health  that  man  tries,  above 
everything  else,  to  be  sociable.  A  splendid,  illuminating 
personality.  A  wonderful  man.  After  yesterday's  com- 
mittee he  said  to  me  :  "  I'm  tired,  Feodor  lUtch,  I'm  tired!" 
[Looks  at  the  clock,  then  at  his  watch]  Your  clock  is  seven 
minutes  fast.     "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I'm  tired." 

[Violin  played  off. 

Olga.  Let's  go  and  have  lunch  !  There's  to  be  a  master- 
piece of  baking  ! 

KuLiGiN.  Oh  my  dear  Olga,  my  dear.  Yesterday  I  was 
working  till  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  and  got  awfully  tired. 
To-day  I'm  quite  happy.  [Goes  into  dining-room]  My 
dear  .  .  . 

Chebutikin.  [Puts  his  paper  into  his  pocket,  and  combs 
his  beard]  A  pie  ?     Splendid  ! 

Masha.  [Severely  to  Chebutikin]  Only  mind ;  you're 
not  to  drink  anything  to-day.  Do  you  hear  ?  It's  bad 
for  you. 

Chebtitikin.     Oh,    that's    all    right.     I    haven't   been 


148         THE    THREE    SISTERS      act  i 

drunk  for   two    years.     And    it's    all    the    same,    any- 
way ! 

Masiia.  You're  not  to  dare  to  drink,  all  the  same. 
[Angrily,  but  so  that  her  husband  should  not  hear]  Another 
dull  evening  at  the  Director's,  confound  it ! 

TuzENBACH.  I  shouldn't  go  if  I  were  you.  .  .  .  It's  quite 
simple. 

Chebutikin.  Don't  go. 

Masha.  Yes,  "  don't  go.  .  .  ."  It's  a  cursed,  unbearable 
life.  .  .  .  [Goes  into  dining-room. 

Chebutikin.  [Follows  her]  It's  not  so  bad. 

SoLENi.  [Going  into  the  dining-room]  There,  there, 
there.  .  .  . 

TuzENBACH.  Vassili  Vassilevitch,  that's  enough*  Be 
quiet ! 

SoLENi.  There,  there,  there.  .  .  . 

KuLiQiN.  [Gaily]  Your  health.  Colonel !  I'm  a  peda- 
gogue and  not  quite  at  home  here.  I'm  Masha's  husband. 
.  .  .  She's  a  good  sort,  a  very  good  sort.  .  .  . 

Vershinin.  I'll  have  some  of  this  black  vodka.  .  .  . 
[Drinks]  Your  health  !  [To  Olga]  I'm  very  comfortable 
here  1 

Only  Irina  and  Tuzenbach  are  now  left  in  the 
sitting-room. 

Irina.  Masha's  out  of  sorts  to-day.  She  married  when 
she  was  eighteen,  when' he  seemed  to  her  the  wisest  of  men. 
And  now  it's  different.  He's  the  kindest  man,  but  not  the 
wisest. 

Olga.  [Impatiently]  Audrey,  when  are  you  coming  ? 

Andrey.  [Off]  One  minute.  [Enters  and  goes  to  the  table. 

Tuzenbach.  What  are  you  thinking  about  'f 

Irina.  I  don't  like  this  Soleni  of  yours  and  I'm  afraid 
of  him.     He  only  says  silly  things. 


ACT  I      THE   THREE    SISTERS         149 

TuzENBAcn.  He's  a  queer  man.  I'm  sorry  for  him, 
though  he  vexes  me.  I  think  he's  shy.  When  there 
are  just  the  two  of  us  he's  quite  all  right  and  very  good 
company ;  when  other  people  are  about  he's  rough  and 
hectoring.  Don't  let's  go  in,  let  them  have  their  meal  with- 
out us.  Let  me  stay  with  you.  What  are  you  thinking 
of  ?  [Pause]  You're  twenty.  I'm  not  yet  thirty.  How 
many  years  are  there  left  to  us,  with  their  long,  long  lines  of 
days,  filled  with  my  love  for  you.  .  .  . 

Irina.  Nicolai  Lvovitch,  don't  speak  to  me  of  love. 

TuzENBACH.  [Does  not  hear]  I've  a  great  thirst  for  life, 
struggle,  and  work,  and  this  thirst  has  united  with  my  love 
for  you,  Irina,  and  you're  so  beautiful,  and  life  seems  so 
beautiful  to  me  !     What  are  you  thinking  about  1 

Irina.  You  say  that  life  is  beautiful.  Yes,  if  only  it 
seems  so  !  The  life  of  us  three  hasn't  been  beautiful  yet ; 
it  has  been  stifling  us  as  if  it  was  weeds  .  .  .  I'm  crying.  I 
oughtn't.  .  .  .  [Dries  her  tears,  smiles]  We  must  work, 
work.  That  is  why  we  are  unhappy  and  look  at  the  world 
so  sadly  ;  we  don't  know  what  work  is.  Our  parents 
despised  work.  .  .  . 

Enter  Natalia  Ivanovna  ;   she  wears  a  pink  dress 
and  a  green  sash. 

Natasha.  They're  already  at  lunch  .  .  .  I'm  late  .  .  . 
[Carefully  examines  herself  in  a  mirror,  and  puts  herself 
straight]  1  think  my  hair's  done  all  right.  .  .  .  [Sees  Irina] 
Dear  Irina  Sergeyevna,  I  congratulate  you !  [Kisses 
her  firmly  and  at  length]  You've  so  many  visitors,  I'm  really 
ashamed.  .  .  .  How  do  you  do,  Baron  ! 

Olqa.  [Enters  from  dining-room]  Here's   Natalia   Ivan- 
ovna.    How  are  you,  dear  1  [They  kiss. 
Natasha.  Happy   returns.    I'm    awfully    shy,    you've 
so  many  people  here. 


150         ТИК    Til  НЕЕ    SISTERS      act  i 

Olqa.  ли  our  friends.  [Frvjhtened,  in  an  undertone] 
You're  wearing  a  green  sash  !     My  dear,  you  shouldn't ! 

Natasha.  Is  it  a  sign  of  anything  ? 

Olga.  No,  it  simply  doesn't  go  well  .  .  .  and  it  looks  so 
queer. 

Natasha.  [In  a  tearful  voice]  Yes  ?  But  it  isn't  really 
green,  it's  too  dull  for  that. 

[Goes  into  dinincj-room  with  Olga. 
They  have  all  sat  down  to  lunch  in  the  dining-room,  the 
sitting-room  is  ewpty. 

KuLiGiN.  I  wish  you  a  nice  fiance,  Irina.  It's  quite 
time  you  married. 

ChebuTikin.  Natalia  Ivanovna,  I  wish  you  the  same. 

KuLiGiN.  Natalia  Ivanovna  has  affiance  already. 

Masha.  [Rafs  with  her  fork  on  a  plate]  Let's  all  get 
drunk  and  make  life  purple  for  once  ! 

KuLiGiN.  You've  lost  three  good  conduct  marks. 

Vershinin.  This  is  a  nice  drink.     What's  it  made  of  ? 

SoLENi.  Blackbeetles. 

Irina.  [Tearfully]  Phoo  !     How  disgusting  ! 

Olga.  There  is  to  be  a  roast  turkey  and  a  sweet  apple  pie 
for  dinner.  Thank  goodness  I  can  spend  all  day  and  the 
evening  at  home.  You'll  come  in  the  evening,  ladies  and 
gentlemen.  .  .  . 

Vershinin.  And  please  may  I  come  in  the  evening  ! 

Irina.  Please  do. 

Natasha.  They  don't  stand  on  ceremony  here. 

Chebutikin.  Nature  only  brought  us  into  the  world  that 
we  should  love  !  [Laughs. 

Andrey.  [Angrily]  Please  don't !  Aren't  you  tired  of 
it? 

Enter  Fedotik  and  Rode  with  a  large  haslet  of 
flowers. 


ACT  I     THE    THREE    SISTERS         151 

Fedotik.  They're  lunching  already. 

Rode.  [Loudly  and  thickly]  Lunching  ?  Yes,  so  they 
are.  .  .  . 

Fedotik.  Wait  a  minute  !  [Takes  a  photograph]  That's 
one.  No,  just  a  moment.  .  .  .  [Takes  another]  That's 
two.    Now  we're  ready  ! 

They  take  the  basket  and  go  into  the  dining-room,  where 
they  have  a  noisy  reception. 

Rode.  [Loudly]  Congratulations  and  best  wishes !  Lovely 
weather  to-day,  simply  perfect.  Was  out  walking  with  the 
High  School  students  all  the  morning.    I  take  their  drills. 

Fedotik.  You  may  move,  Irina  Sergeyevna  !  [Takes  a 
photograph]  You  look  well  to-day.  [Takes  a  humming-top  out 
of  his  pocket]  Here's  a  humming-top,  by  the  way.  It's  got 
a  lovely  note ! 

Irina.  How  awfully  nice  ! 

Masha.  "  There  stands  a  green  oak  by  the  sea, 

And  a  chain  of  bright  gold  is  around  it  .  .  . 
And  a  chain  of  bright  gold  is  around  it  .  .  ." 
[Tearfully]  What  am  I  saying  that  for  ?     I've  had  those 
words  running  in  my  head  all  day.  .  .  . 

KuLiGiN.  There  are  thirteen  at  table  ! 

Rode.  [Aloud]  Surely  you  don't  believe  in  that  super- 
stition ?  [Laughter. 

KuLiGiN.  If  there  are  thirteen  at  table  then  it  means 
there  are  lovers  present.  It  isn't  you,  Ivan  Romanovitch, 
hang  it  all.  .  .  .  [Laughter. 

Chebutikin.  I'm  a  hardened  sinner,  but  I  really  don't 
see  why  Natalia  Ivanovna  should  blush.  .  .  . 

Loud  laughter ;   Natasha  runs  out  into  the  sitting- 
room,  followed  by  Andrey. 

Andrey.  Don't  pay  any  attention  to  them  !  Wait  .  .  , 
do  stop,  please.  .  .  . 


152         THE    THREE    SISTERS      acti 

Natasha.  I'm  shy  ...  I  don't  know  what's  the  matter 
with  me  and  they're  all  laughing  at  me.  It  wasn't  nice  of 
me  to  leave  the  table  like  that,  but  I  can't  ...  I  can't. 

[Covers  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Andrey.  My  dear,  I  beg  you.  I  implore  you  not  to 
excite  yourself.  I  assure  you  they're  only  joking,  they're 
kind  people.  My  dear,  good  girl,  they're  all  kind  and 
sincere  people,  and  they  like  both  you  and  me.  Come  here 
to  the  window,  they  can't  see  us  here.  .  .  .      [Looks  rowid. 

Natasha.  I'm  so  unaccustomed  to  meeting  people  ! 

Andrey.  Oh  your  youth,  your  splendid,  beautiful  youth  ! 
My  darling,  don't  be  so  excited  !  Believe  me,  believe  me 
.  .  .  I'm  so  happy,  my  soul  is  full  of  love,  of  ecstasy.  .  .  . 
They  don't  see  us  !  They  can't !  Why,  why  or  when  did  I 
fall  in  love  with  you — Oh,  I  can't  understand  anything. 
My  dear,  my  pure  darling,  be  my  wife  !  I  love  you,  love 
you  ...  as  never  before.  .  .  .  [They  kiss. 

Two  officers  come  in  and,  seeing  the  lovers  kiss,  stop 
in  astonishment. 

Curtain. 


ACT  II 

Scene  as  before.  It  is  8  p.m.  Somebody  is  heard  playing 
a  concertina  outside  in  the  street.  There  is  no  fire. 
Natalya  Ivanovna  enters  in  indoor  dress  carrying  a 
candle ;  she  stops  by  the  door  which  leads  into  Andrey's 
room. 

Natasha.  What  are  you  doing,  Audrey  ?  Are  you 
reading  1  It's  nothing,  only  I.  .  .  .  [She  opens  another 
door,  and  looks  in,  then  closes  it]  Isn't  there  any  fire.  .  .  . 

Andrey.  [Enters  with  book  in  hand]  What  are  you  doing, 
Natasha  ? 

Natasha.  I  was  looking  to  see  if  there  wasn't  a  fire.  It's 
Shrovetide,  and  the  servant  is  simply  beside  herself ;  I 
must  look  out  that  something  doesn't  happen.  When  I 
came  through  the  dining-room  yesterday  midnight,  there 
was  a  candle  burning.  I  couldn't  get  her  to  tell  me  who 
had  lighted  it.  [Puts  down  her  candle]  What's  the  time  ? 

Andrey.  [Looks  at  his  watch]  A  quarter  past  eight. 

Natasha.  And  Olga  and  Irina  aren't  in  yet.  The  poor 
things  are  still  at  work.  Olga  at  the  teacher's  council, 
Irina  at  the  telegraph  office.  .  .  .  [Sighs]  I  said  to  your 
sister  this  morning,  "  Irina,  darling,  you  must  take  care  of 
yourself."  But  she  pays  no  attention.  Did  you  say  it  was 
a  quarter  past  eight  ?  I  am  afraid  little  Bobby  is  quite  ill. 
Why  is  he  so  cold  ?  He  was  feverish  yesterday,  but  to-day 
he  is  quite  cold  ...  I  am  so  frightened  ! 

Andrey.  It's  all  right,  Natasha.     The  boy  is  well. 
153 


154         THE    THREE    SISTERS     лети 

Natasha.  Still,  I  think  we  ought  to  put  him  on  a  diet. 
I  am  so  afraid-  And  the  entertainers  were  to  be  here  after 
nine  ;  they  had  better  not  come,  Andrey. 

Andrey.  I  don't  know.    After  all,  they  were  asked. 

Natasha.  This  morning,  when  the  little  boy  woke  up  and 
saw  me  he  suddenly  smiled  ;  that  means  he  knew  me. 
"  Good  morning,  Bobby !  "  I  said, "  good  morning,  darling." 
And  he  laughed.  Children  understand,  they  understand 
very  well.  So  I'll  tell  them,  Andrey  dear,  not  to  receive 
the  entertainers. 

Andrey.  [Hesitatingly]  But  what  about  my  sisters. 
This  is  their  flat. 

Natasha.  They'll  do  as  I  want  them.  They  are  so  kind. 
.  .  .  [Going]  I  ordered  sour  milk  for  supper.  The  doctor 
says  you  must  eat  sour  milk  and  nothing  else,  or  you  won't 
get  thin.  [Stops]  Bobby  is  so  cold.  I'm  afraid  his  room  is 
too  cold  for  him.  It  would  be  nice  to  put  him  into  another 
room  till  the  warm  weather  comes.  Irina's  room,  for 
instance,  is  just  right  for  a  child  :  it's  dry  and  has  the  sun 
all  day.  I  must  tell  her,  she  can  share  Olga's  room.  .  .  . 
It  isn't  as  if  she  was  at  home  in  the  daytime,  she  only  sleeps 
here.  .  .  .  [A  pause]  Andrey,  darling,  why  are  you  so 
silent  ? 

Andrey.  I  was  just  thinking.  .  .  .  There  is  really  no- 
thing to  say.  .  .  . 

Natasha.  Yes  .  .  .  there  was  something  I  wanted  to 
tell  you.  .  .  .  Oh,  yes.  Ferapont  has  come  from  the 
Council  offices,  he  wants  to  see  you. 

Andrey.  [Yawns]  Call  him  here. 

Natasha  goes  out ;  Andrey  reads  his  book,  stooping 
over  the  candle  she  has  left  behind.  Ferapont 
enters ;  he  icears  a  tattered  old  coat  with  the  collar 
up.    His  cars  are  mujjled. 


ACT  II    THE    THREE    SISTERS         155 

Andrey.  Good  morning,  grandfather.  Wbat  have  you 
to  say  ? 

Ferapont.  The  Chairman  sends  a  book  and  some  docu- 
ments or  other.     Here.  .  .  . 

[Hands  him  a  book  and  a  facJcet. 

Andrey.  Thank  you.  It's  all  right.  Why  couldn't 
you  come  earlier  ?     It's  past  eight  now. 

Ferapont.  What  ? 

Andrey.  [Louder]  I  say  you've  come  late,  it's  past  eight. 

Ferapont.  Yes,  yes.  I  came  when  it  was  still  light, 
but  they  wouldn't  let  me  in.  They  said  you  were  busy. 
Well,  what  was  I  to  do.  If  you're  busy,  you're  busy,  and 
I'm  in  no  hurry.  [He  tlimks  that  Andrey  is  asJcing  him 
something]  What  ? 

Andrey.  Nothing.  [LooJcs  through  the  book]  To-morrow's 
Friday.  I'm  not  supposed  to  go  to  work,  but  I'll  come — 
all  the  same  .  .  .  and  do  some  work.  It's  dull  at  home. 
.  .  .  [Pause]  Oh,  my  dear  old  man,  how  strangely  life 
changes,  and  how  it  deceives  !  To-day,  out  of  sheer  bore- 
dom, I  took  up  this  book — old  university  lectures,  and  I 
couldn't  help  laughing.  My  God,  I'm  secretary  of  the 
local  district  council,  the  council  which  has  Protopopov 
for  its  chairman,  yes,  I'm  the  secretary,  and  the  summit 
of  my  ambitions  is — to  become  a  member  of  the  council ! 
I  to  be  a  member  of  the  local  district  council,  I,  who  dream 
every  night  that  I'm  a  professor  of  Moscow  University,  a 
famous  scholar  of  whom  all  Eussia  is  proud  ! 

Ferapont.  I  can't  tell  .  .  .  I'm  hard  of  hearing.  .  .  . 

Andrey.  If  you  weren't,  I  don't  suppose  I  should  talk 
to  you.  I've  got  to  talk  to  somebody,  and  my  wife  doesn't 
understand  me,  and  I'm  a  bit  afraid  of  my  sisters — I  don't 
know  why  unless  it  is  that  they  may  make  fun  of  me  and 
make  me  feel  ashamed  ...  I  don't  drink,  I  don't  like 


156         ТИК    THREE    SISTERS     act  и 

public-houscs,but  how  I  should  like  to  be  sitting  just  now  in 
Tyestov's  place  in  Moscow,  or  at  the  Great  Moscow,  old 
fellow  I 

Ferapont.  Moscow  ?  That's  where  a  contractor  was 
once  telling  that  some  merchants  or  other  were  eating  pan- 
cakes ;  one  ate  forty  pancakes  and  he  went  and  died,  he 
was  saying.     Either  forty  or  fifty,  I  forget  which. 

Andrey.  In  Moscow  you  can  sit  in  an  enormous  restau- 
rant where  you  don't  know  anybody  and  where  nobody 
knows  you,  and  you  don't  feel  all  the  same  that  you're  a 
stranger.  And  here  you  know  everybody  and  everybody 
knows  you,  and  you're  a  stranger  .        and  a  lonely  stranger. 

Ferapont.  What  ?  And  the  same  contractor  was  telling 
— perhaps  he  was  lying — that  there  was  a  cable  stretching 
right  across  Moscow. 

Andrey.  What  for  ? 

Ferapont.  I  can't  tell.    The  contractor  said  so. 

Andrey.  Rubbish.  [He  reads]  Were  you  ever  in  Mos- 
cow 1 

Ferapont.  [Aft^r  a  pause]  No.  God  did  not  lead  me 
there.  [Pmise]  Shall  I  go  ? 

Andrey.  Уси  may  go.  Good-bye.  [Ferapont  goes] 
G'ood-bye.  [Reads]  You  can  come  to-morrow  and  fetch 
these  documents.  ...  Go  along.  .  .  .  [Pause]  He's  gone. 
[A  ring]  Yes,  yes.  .  .  . 

[Stretches  himself  and  slowly  goes  into  his  own  room. 
Behind  the  scene  the  nurse  is  singing  a  lullaby  to  the 
child.    ]\Iasha  and  Vershinin    come   in.     While 
they  talk,  a  maidservant  lights  candles  and  a  lamp. 

Masha.  I  don't  know.  [Pause]  I  don't  know.  Of  course, 
habit  counts  for  a  great  deal.  After  father's  death,  for 
instance,  it  took  us  a  long  time  to  get  used  to  the  absence 
of  orderlies.     But,  apart  from  habit,  it  seems  to  me  in  all 


ACT  II    THE    THREE    SISTERS         157 

fairness  that,  however  it  may  be  in  other  towns,  the  best 
and  most-educated  people  are  army  men. 

Vershinin.  I'm  thirsty.    I  should  like  some  tea. 

Masha.  [Glancing  at  her  watch]  They'll  bring  some  soon. 
I  was  given  in  marriage  when  I  was  eighteen,  and  I  was 
afraid  of  my  husband  because  he  was  a  teacher  and  I'd  only 
just  left  school.  He  then  seemed  to  me  frightfully  wise  and 
learned  and  important.  And  now,  unfortunately,  that  has 
changed. 

Vershinin.  Yes  .  .  .  yes. 

Masha.  I  don't  speak  of  my  husband,  I've  grown  used  to 
him,  but  civilians  in  general  are  so  often  coarse,  impolite, 
uneducated.  Their  rudeness  ofiends  me,  it  angers  me.  I 
suffer  when  I  see  that  a  man  isn't  quite  sufficiently  refined, 
or  delicate,  or  polite.  I  simply  suffer  agonies  when  I  happen 
to  be  among  schoolmasters,  my  husband's  colleagues. 

VERSffiNiN.  Yes.  ...  It  seems  to  me  that  civilians  and 
army  men  are  equally  interesting,  in  this  town,  at  any  rate. 
It's  all  the  same  !  If  you  listen  to  a  member  of  the  local 
intelhgentsia,  whether  to  civilian  or  military,  he  will  tell  you 
that  he's  sick  of  his  wife,  sick  of  his  house,  sick  of  his 
estate,  sick  of  his  horses.  .  .  .  We  Russians  are  extremely 
gifted  in  the  direction  of  thinking  on  an  exalted  plane,  but, 
tell  me,  why  do  we  aim  so  low  in  real  life  ?     Why  ? 

Masha.  Why  ? 

Vershinin.  Why  is  a  Russian  sick  of  his  children,  sick 
of  his  wife  ?  And  why  are  his  wife  and  children  sick  of 
him  ? 

Masha.  You're  a  little  downhearted  to-day. 

Vershinin.  Perhaps  I  am.  I  haven't  had  any  dinner, 
I've  had  nothing  since  the  morning.  My  daughter  is  a  little 
unwell,  and  when  my  girls  are  ill,  I  get  very  anxious  and 
my   conscience   tortures   me  because   they   have   such   a 


158         THE    Т II  rep:    sisters     act  II 

mother.  Oh,  if  you  had  seen  her  to-day  !  What  a  trivial 
personality  I  Wo  began  quarrelling  at  seven  in  the  morning 
and  at  nine  I  slammed  the  door  and  went  out.  [Pause]  I 
never  speak  of  her,  it's  strange  that  I  bear  my  complaints 
to  you  alone.  [Kisses  her  hand]  Don't  be  angry  with  me. 
I  haven't  anybody  but  you,  nobody  at  all.  .  .  .       [Pause. 

Masha.  What  a  noise  in  the  oven.  Just  before  father's 
death  there  was  a  noise  in  the  pipe,  just  like  that. 

VERsmNiN.  Are  you  superstitious  ? 

Masha.  Yes. 

Vershinin.  That's  strange.  [Kisses  her  hand]  You  are  a 
splendid,  wonderful  woman.  Splendid,  wonderful !  It  is 
dark  here,  but  I  see  your  sparkling  eyes. 

Masha.  [Sits  on  another  chair]  There  is  more  light  here. 

Vershinin.  I  love  you,  love  you,  love  you  ...  I  love 
your  eyes,  your  movements,  I  dream  of  them.  .  .  .  Splendid, 
wonderful  woman ! 

Masha.  [Laughing]  When  you  talk  to  me  like  that,  I 
laugh  ;  I  don't  know  why,  for  I'm  afraid.  Don't  repeat  it, 
please.  .  .  .  [In  an  undertone]  No,  go  on,  it's  all  the  same 
to  me.  .  .  .  [Covers  her  face  with  her  hands]  Somebody's 
coming,  let's  talk  about  something  else.  .  .  . 

Irina  and  TuzENBACH  come  in  through  the  dining- 
room. 

TuzENBACH.  My  surname  is  really  triple.  I  am  called 
Baron  Tuzenbach-Krone-Altschauer,  but  I  am  Eussian  and 
Orthodox,  the  same  as  you.  There  is  very  little  German 
left  in  me,  unless  perhaps  it  is  the  patience  and  the 
obstinacy  with  which  I  bore  you.  I  see  you  home  every 
night. 

Irina.  How  tired  I  am  ! 

TuzENBACH.  And  I'll  come  to  the  telegraph  office  to  see 
you  home  every  day  for  ten  or  twenty  years,  until  you  drive 


ACT  II    THE   THREE    SISTERS         159 

me  away.  [He  sees  ^Iasha  a^id  Vershinin  ;  joyfully^  Is  that 
you  ?     How  do  you  do. 

Irina.  AVell,  I  am  home  at  last.  [To  Masha]  A  lady 
came  to-day  to  telegraph  to  her  brother  in  Saratov  that  her 
son  died  to-day,  and  she  couldn't  remember  the  address 
anyhow.  So  she  sent  the  telegram  without  an  address, 
just  to  Saratov.  She  was  crying.  And  for  some  reason  or 
other  I  was  rude  to  her.  "  I've  no  time,"  I  said.  It  was 
so  stupid.    Are  the  entertainers  coming  to-night  ? 

Masha.  Yes. 

Irina.  [Sitting  down  in  an  armchair]  I  want  a  rest.  I  am 
tired. 

TuzENBACH.  [Smiling]  When  you  come  home  from  your 
work  you  seem  so  young,  and  so  unfortunate.  .  .  . 

[Pause. 

Irina.  I  am  tired.  No,  I  don't  like  the  telegraph  office, 
I  don't  like  it. 

Masha.  You've  grown  thinner,  .  .  .  [Whistles  a  little] 
And  you  look  younger,  and  your  face  has  become  like  a  boy's. 

TuZENBACH.  That's  the  way  she  does  her  hair. 

Irina.  I  must  find  another  job,  this  one  won't  do  for 
me.  What  I  wanted,  what  I  hoped  to  get,  just  that  is 
lacking  here.  Labour  without  poetry,  without  ideas.  .  .  . 
[A  knocJc  on  the  floor]  The  doctor  is  knocking.  [To  Tuzen- 
bach]  Will  you  knock,  dear.  I  can't  .  .  .  I'm  tired.  .  .  . 
[Tuzenbach  кпосЩ  He'll  come  in  a  minute.  Something 
ought  to  be  done.  Yesterday  the  doctor  and  Audrey 
played  cards  at  the  club  and  lost  money.  Audrey  seems  to 
have  lost  200  roubles. 

]Masha.  [With  indifference]  What  can  we  do  now  ? 

Irina.  He  lost  money  a  fortnight  ago,  he  lost  money  in 
December.  Perhaps  if  he  lost  everything  we  should  go 
away  from  this  town.     Oh,  my  God,  I  dream  of  Moscow 


IGO         THE    THREE    SISTERS     act  ii 

every  night.  I'mjust  like  a  lunatic.  [Laughs]  We  go  there 
in  June,  and  before  June  there's  still  .  .  .  February,  March, 
April,  May  .  .  .  nearly  half  a  year  ! 

Masha.  Only  Natasha  mustn't  get  to  know  of  these 
losses. 

Ibina.  I  expect  it  will  be  all  the  same  to  her. 

CHEBUTiKiN,t(^Ao /ias  only  just  got  out  of  bed — he  was 
resting  after  dinner — comes  into  the  dining-room 
and  combs  his  beard.  He  then  sits  by  the  table  and 
takes  a  newspaper  from  his  pocket. 

Masha.  Here  he  is.  .  .  .  Has  he  paid  his  rent  ? 

Irina.  [Lauglis]  No.  He's  been  here  eight  months  and 
hasn't  paid  a  copeck.     Seems  to  have  forgotten. 

Masha.  [Laughs]  What  dignity  in  his  pose  ! 

[They  all  laugh.    A  pause. 

Irina.  Why  are  you  so  silent,  Alexander  Ignateyevitch  ? 

Vershinin.  I  don't  know.  I  want  some  tea.  Half  my 
life  for  a  tumbler  of  tea  :  I  haven't  had  anything  since 
morning. 

Chebutikin.  Irina  Sergeyevna ! 

Irina.  What  is  it  ? 

Chebutikin.  Please  come  here,  Venez  id.  [Irina  goes  and 
sits  by  the  table]  I  can't  do  without  you. 

[Irina  begins  to  play  patience. 

Vershinin.  Well,  if  we  can't  have  any  tea,  let's  philoso- 
phize, at  any  rate. 

TuzENBACH.  Yes,  let's.    About  what  ? 

Vershinin.  About  what  ?  Let  us  meditate  .  .  .  about 
life  as  it  will  be  after  our  time ;  for  example,  in  two  or  three 
hundred  years. 

TuzENBACH.  Well  ?  After  our  time  people  will  fly  about 
in  balloons,  the  cut  of  one's  coat  will  change,  perhaps  they'll 
discover  a  sixth  sense  and  develop  it,  but  life  will  remain 


ACTii     THE   THREE    SISTERS        161 

the  same,  laborious,  mysterious,  and  happy.  And  in  a 
thousand  years'  time,  people  will  still  be  sighing  :  "  Life  is 
hard  !  " — and  at  the  same  time  they'll  be  just  as  afraid  of 
death,  and  unwilling  to  meet  it,  as  we  are. 

VERsmNiN.  [ThougJitfidhj]  How  can  I  put  it  1  It  seems 
to  me  that  everything  on  earth  must  change,  little  by  little, 
and  is  already  changing  under  our  very  eyes.  After  two 
or  three  hundred  years,  after  a  thousand — the  actual  time 
doesn't  matter — a  new  and  happy  age  will  begin.  We,  of 
course,  shall  not  take  part  in  it,  but  we  live  and  work  and 
even  suffer  to-day  that  it  should  come.  We  create  it — and 
in  that  one  object  is  our  destiny  and,  if  you  like,  our 
happiness. 

Masha  laughs  softly. 

TuzENBACH.  What  is  it  ? 

Masha.  I  don't  know.  I've  been  laughing  all  day,  ever 
since  morning. 

Vershinin.  I  finished  my  education  at  the  same  point 
as  you,  I  have  not  studied  at  universities  ;  I  read  a  lot,  but 
I  cannot  choose  my  books  and  perhaps  what  I  read  is  not 
at  all  what  I  should,  but  the  longer  I  love,  the  more  I  want  to 
know.  My  hair  is  turning  white,  I  a  m  nearly  an  old  man  now, 
but  I  know  so  little,  oh,  so  little  !  But  I  think  I  know  the 
things  that  matter  most,  and  that  are  most  real.  I  know 
them  well.  And  I  wish  I  could  make  you  understand  that 
there  is  no  happiness  for  us,  that  there  should  not  and  cannot 
be.  .  .  .  We  must  only  work  and  work,  and  happiness  is 
only  for  our  distant  posterity.  [Pause]  If  not  for  me,  then 
for  the  descendants  of  my  descendants. 

Fedotik  and  Rode  come  into  the  dining-room  ;  they 
sit  and  sing  softly,  strumming  on  a  guitar. 

TuzENBACH.  According  to  you,  one  should  not  even  think 
about  happiness  !    But  suppose  I  am  happy  1 

L 


1C2         THE    ТЫ  11  ЕЕ    SISTERS     act  и 

Vkhshinin.  No. 

TuzENBACiT.  [Moves  his  hands  and  laughs]  We  do  not 
seem  to  understand  each  other.  How  can  I  convince  you  ? 
[Masha  laughs  quietly,  Tuzenbach  continues,  poinliiig  at 
her]  Yes,  laugh  !  [To  Vkrshinin]  Not  only  after  two  or 
three  centuries,  but  in  a  million  years,  life  will  still  be  as  it 
was  ;  life  does  not  change,  it  remains  for  ever,  following  its 
own  laws  which  do  not  concern  us,  or  which,  at  any  rate,  you 
will  never  find  out.  Migrant  birds,  cranes  for  example,  fly 
and  fly,  and  whatever  thoughts,  high  or  low,  enter  their 
heads,  they  will  still  fly  and  not  know  why  or  where.  They 
fly  and  will  continue  to  fly,  whatever  philosophers  come  to 
life  among  them  ;  they  may  philosophize  as  much  as  they 
like,  only  they  will  fly.  .  .  . 

Masha.  Still,  is  there  a  meaning  ? 

Tuzenbach.  A  meaning.  .  .  .  Now  the  snow  is  falling. 
What  meaning  ?  [Pause. 

Masha.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  man  must  have  faith,  or 
must  search  for  a  faith,  or  his  life  will  be  empty,  empty.  .  .  . 
To  live  and  not  to  know  why  the  cranes  fly,  why  babies  are 
born,  why  there  are  stars  in  the  sky.  .  .  .  Either  you  must 
know  why  you  live,  or  everything  is  trivial,  not  worth  a 
straw.  [A  pause. 

VERsmNiN.  Still,  I  am  sorry  that  my  youth  has 
gone. 

Masha.  Gogol  says  :  life  in  this  world  is  a  dull  matter, 
my  masters  ! 

Tuzenbach.  And  I  say  it's  difficult  to  argue  with  you, 
my  masters  !     Hang  it  all. 

Chebutikin.  [Reading]  Balzac  was  married  at  Berdichev. 
[Irina  is  singing  softly]  That's  worth  making  a  note  of, 
[He  makes  a  note]  Balzac  was  married  at  Berdichev. 

[Goes  on  reading. 


ACT  II    THE    THREE    SISTERS         163 

Ieina.  [Laying  out  cards,  thoughtfully]  Balzac  was  married 
at  Berdicbev. 

TuzEXBACH.  The  die  is  cast.  I've  handed  in  my  resigna- 
tion, Maria  Sergey evna. 

Masha.  So  I  heard.  I  don't  see  what  good  it  is  ;  I  don't 
like  civilians. 

TuzENBACH.  Never  mind.  .  .  .  [Gets  up]  I'm  not  hand- 
some ;  what  use  am  I  as  a  soldier  ?  Well,  it  makes  no 
diSerence  ...  I  shall  work.  If  only  just  once  in  my  life 
I  could  work  so  that  I  could  come  home  in  the  evening,  fall 
exhausted  on  my  bed,  and  go  to  sleep  at  once.  [Going  into 
the  dining-room]  Workmen,  I  suppose,  do  sleep  soundly  ! 

Fedotik.  [To  Irina]  I  bought  some  coloured  pencils  for 
you  at  Pizhikov's  in  the  Moscow  Road,  just  now.  And  here 
is  a  little  knife. 

Irina.  You  have  got  into  the  habit  of  behaving  to  me 
аз  if  I  am  a  little  girl,  but  I  am  grown  up.  [Takes  the  pencils 
and  the  knife,  tJien,  with  joy]  How  lovely  ! 

Fedotik.  And  I  bought  myself  a  knife  .  .  .  look  at  it 
.  .  .  one  blade,  another,  a  third,  an  ear-scoop,  scissors,  nail- 
cleaners.  .  .  . 

Rode.  [Loudly]  Doctor,  how  old  are  you  ? 

Chebutikin.  I  ?     Thirty-two.  [Laughter. 

Fedotik.  I'll  show  you  another  kind  of  patience.  .  .  . 

[Lays  out  cards. 

Л  samovar  is  brought  in ;   Anksa  attends  to  it ;   a 

little  later  Natasha  enters  and  helps  by  the  table ; 

SoLENi   arrives  and,   after  greetings,  sits  by  the 

table. 

VERSfflNiN.  What  a  wind  ! 

Masha.  Yes,  I'm  tired  of  winter.  I've  already  for- 
gotten what  summer's  like. 

Irina.  It's  coming  out,  I  see.     We're  going  to  Moscow 


164         THE    THREE    SISTERS     actii 

Fedotik.  No,  it  won't  come  out.  Look,  the  eight  was 
on  the  two  of  spades.  [Laughs]  That  moans  you  won't  go  to 
Moscow. 

CnEBUTiKiN.  [Reading  paper]  Tsitsigar.  Smallpox  ia 
raging  here. 

Anfisa.  [Coming  up  to  Masha]  Masha,  have  some  tea, 
little  mother.  [To  Vershinin]  Please  have  some,  sir  .  .  . 
excuse  me,  but  I've  forgotten  your  name.  .  .  . 

Masha.  Bring  some  here,  nurse.    I  shan't  go  over  there. 

Irina.  Nurse  ! 

Anfisa.  Coming,  coming ! 

Natasha.  [To  Soleni]  Children  at  the  breast  understand 
perfectly.  I  said  "  Good  morning,  Bobby  ;  good  morning, 
dear  !  "  And  he  looked  at  me  in  quite  an  unusual  way. 
You  think  it's  only  the  mother  in  me  that  is  speaking  ;  I 
assure  you  that  isn't  so  !     He's  a  wonderful  child. 

Soleni.  If  heVas  my  child  I'd  roast  him  on  a  fr}'ing-pan 
and  eat  him. 

Takes  his  tumbler  into  the  draunng-room  and  sits  in  a 
corner. 

Natasha.  [Covers  her  face  in  her  hands]  Vulgar,  ill-bred 
man ! 

Masha.  He's  lucky  who  doesn't  notice  whether  it's  winter 
now,  or  summer.  I  think  that  if  I  were  in  Moscow,  I 
shouldn't  mind  about  the  weather. 

Vershin'in.  a  few  days  ago  I  was  reading  the  prison 
diary  of  a  French  minister.  He  had  been  sentenced  on 
account  of  the  Panama  scandal.  With  what  joy,  what 
delight,  he  speaks  of  the  birds  he  saw  through  the  prison 
windows,  which  he  had  never  noticed  while  he  was  a 
minister.  Now,  of  course,  that  he  is  at  liberty,  he  notices 
birds  no  more  than  he  did  before.  When  you  go  to  live 
in  Moscow  you'll  not  notice  it,  in   just   the   same   way. 


AcTii      THE    THREE    SISTERS        165 

There  can  be  no  happiness  for  us,  it  only  exists  in  our 
wishes, 

TuzENBACH.  [TaJces  cardboard  box  from  the  table]  Where 
are  the  pastries  ? 

Irina.  Soleni  has  eaten  them. 

TuzENBACH.  All  of  them  ? 

Anfisa.  [Serving  tea]  There's  a  letter  for  you. 

Vershinin.  For  me  ?  [TaJces  the  letter]  From  my  daugh- 
ter. [Reads]  Yes,  of  course  ...  I  will  go  quietly.  Excuse 
me,  Maria  Sergeyevna.  I  shan't  have  any  tea.  [Stands  up, 
excited]  That  eternal  story.  ... 

]\Iasha.  What  is  it  ?     Is  it  a  secret  ? 

VERsmNiN.  [Quietly]  My  wife  has  poisoned  herself  again. 
I  must  go.  I'll  go  out  quietly.  It's  all  awfully  unpleasant. 
[Kisses  Masha's  hand]  My  dear,  my  splendid,  good  woman 
,  .  .  I'll  go  this  way,  quietly.  [Exit. 

Anfisa.  Where  has  he  gone  ?  And  I'd  served  tea.  .  .  . 
What  a  man. 

Masha.  [Angrily]  Be  quiet !  You  bother  so  one  can't 
have  a  moment's  peace.  .  .  .  [Goes  to  the  table  mih  her 
cuf]  I'm  tired  of  you,  old  woman  ! 

Anfisa.  My  dear  !    Why  are  you  ojSended  ! 

Andrey's  Voice.  Anfisa  ! 

Anfisa.  [МосЫпд]  Anfisa  !  He  sits  there  and  .  .  .    [Exit. 

Masha.  [In  the  dining-room,  by  the  table  angrily]  Let  me 
sit  down  !  [Disturbs  the  cards  on  the  table]  Here  you  are, 
spreading  your  cards  out.     Have  some  tea  ! 

Irina.  You  are  cross,  Masha. 

Masha.  If  I  am  cross,  then  don't  talk  to  me.  Don't 
touch  me  ! 

Chebutikin.  Don't  touch  her,  don't  touch  her.  .  .  . 

Masha.  You're  sixty,  but  you're  like  a  boy,  always  up 
to  some  beastly  nonsense. 


ICG         THE    THREE    SISTERS     actii 

Natasha.  [Sighs]  Dear  Masha,  why  use  such  expressions? 
With  your  beautiful  exterior  you  would  be  simply  laHcina- 
ting  in  pood  society,  I  tell  you  so  directly,  if  it  wasn't  for 
your  words.  Je  vous  prie,  pardonnez  moi,  Marie,  mai$  voue 
avez  des  maniires  un  feu  grossieres. 

TuzENBACH.  [Restraining  his  laughter]  Give  me  .  .  . 
give  me  .  .  .  there's  some  cognac,  I  think. 

Natasha.  II  parait,  que  топ  Bobick  dejd  ne  dort  pas,  he 
has  awakened.  He  isn't  well  to-day.  I'll  go  to  him,  excuse 
me.  .  .  •  [Exit. 

Irina.  Where  has  Alexander  Ignateyevitch  gone  ? 

Masha.  Home.  Something  extraordinary  has  happened 
to  his  wife  again. 

TuzENBAcn.  [Goes  to  SoLENi  urith  a  cognac-flask  in  his 
hands]  You  go  on  sitting  by  yourself,  thinlving  of  something 
— goodness  knows  what.  Come  and  let's  make  peace. 
Let's  have  some  cognac.  [Thetj  drink]  I  expect  Г11  have 
to  play  the  piano  all  night,  some  rubbish  most  likely  .  .  . 
well,  so  be  it ! 

SoLENi.  Why  make  peace  ?  I  haven't  quarrelled  with 
you. 

TuzENBACH.  You  always  make  me  feel  as  if  something 
has  taken  place  between  us.  You've  a  strange  character, 
you  must  admit. 

Solent.  [Declaims]  "  I  am  strange,  but  who  is  not  ? 
Don't  be  angry,  Aleko  !  " 

TuzENBACH.  And  what  has  Aleko  to  do  with  it  ? 

[Pause. 

Solent.  When  I'm  with  one  other  man  I  behave  just 
like  everybody  else,  but  in  company  I'm  dull  and  shy  and 
.  .  .  talk  all  manner  of  rubbish.  But  I'm  more  honest  and 
more  honourable  than  very,  very  many  people.  And  I  can 
prove  it. 


ACTii     THE    THREE    SISTERS         167 

TuzENBACH.  I  often  get  angry  with  you,  you  always 
fasten  on  to  me  in  company,  but  I  like  you  all  the  same. 
I'm  going  to  drink  my  fill  to-night,  whatever  happens. 
Drink,  now  ! 

SoLENi.  Let's  drink.  [They  drink]  I  never  had  anything 
against  you,  Baron.  But  my  character  is  like  Lermontov's 
[In  a  low  voice]  I  even  rather  resemble  Lermontov,  they 
say.  .  .  . 

Takes  a  scent-bottle  from  his  focket,  and  scents  his 
hands. 

TuzENBACH.  I've  sent  in  my  resignation.  Basta  !  I've 
been  thinking  about  it  for  five  years,  and  at  last  made  up 
my  mind.     I  shall  work. 

SoLENi.  [Declaims]  "  Do  not  be  angry,  Aleko  .  . .  forget, 
forget,  thy  dreams  of  yore.  .  .  ." 

While  he  is  sfcaking  Andrey  enters  quietly  with  a 
book,  and  sits  by  the  table. 

TuzENBACH.  I  shall  work. 

Chebutikin.  [Going  with  Irina  into  the  dining-room]  And 
the  food  was  also  real  Caucasian  onion  soup,  and,  for  a  roast, 
some  chehartma. 

SoLENi.  Cheremsha*  isn't  meat  at  all,  but  a  plant  some- 
thing like  an  onion. 

Chebutikin.  No,  my  angel.  Chehartma  isn't  onion,  but 
roast  mutton. 

Solent.  And  I  tell  you,  cheremsha — is  a  sort  of  onion. 

Chebutikin.  And  I  tell  you,  chehartma — is  mutton. 

Soleni.  And  I  tell  you,  cheremsha — is  a  sort  of  onion. 

Chebutikin.  What's  the  use  of  arguing  !  You've  never 
been  in  the  Caucasus,  and  never  ate  any  chehartma. 

Soleni.  I  never  ate  it,  because  I  hate  it.  It  smells  like 
garlic. 

*  A  yariety  of  garlic. 


1C8         THE    THREE    SISTERS     actii 

Andrey.  [Imploring]  Please,  please  !     I  ask  you  ! 
TuzENBAcn.  When  are  the  entertainers  coming  ? 
Irina.  They  promised  for  about  nine  ;  that  is,  quite  soon. 
TuzENBAcn.  [Embraces  Andrey] 

"  Oh  my  house,  my  house,  my  new-built  house." 
Andrey.  [Dances  and  sings] 

"  Newly-built  of  maple-wood." 
Спев uTi KIN.  [Dances] 

"  Its  walls  are  like  a  sieve  !  "  [Laughter. 

TuzENBACH.  [Kisses  Andrey]  Hang  it  all,  let's  drink. 
Andrey,  old  boy,  let's  drink  with  you.  And  I'll  go  with 
you,  Andrey,  to  the  University  of  Moscow. 

SoLENi.  Which    one  ?     There   are    two   universities   in 
Moscow. 
Andrey.  There's  one  university  in  Moscow. 
SoLENi.  Two,  I  tell  you. 

Andrey.  Don't  care  if  there  are  three.  So  much  the 
better. 

Solent.  There  are  two  universities  in  Moscow  !  [There 
are  murmurs  and  "  hushes"]  There  are  two  universities  in 
Moscow,  the  old  one  and  the  new  one.  And  if  you  don't  like 
to  listen,  if  my  words  annoy  you,  then  I  need  not  speak.  I 
can  even  go  into  another  room.  .  .  .  [Exit. 

TuzENBACH.  Bravo,  bravo !  [Laughs]  Come  on,  now. 
I'm  going  to  play.     Funny  man,  Soleni.  .  .  . 

[Goes  to  the  piano  and  plays  a  waltz. 
Masha.  [Dancing  solo]  The  Baron's  drunk,  the  Baron's 
drunk,  the  Baron's  drunk  ! 
Natasha  comes  in. 
Natasha.  [To  Chebutikin]  Ivan  Eomanovitch  ! 

Says  something  to  Chebutikin,  then  goes  out  quietly ; 
Chebutikin  touches  Tuzenbach  on  the  shoulder 
and  whispers  something  to  him. 


ACTii     THE    THREE    SISTERS         1G9 

Ikina.  What  is  it  1 

Chebutikin.  Time  for  us  to  go.    Good-bye. 
TuzENBACH.  Good-night.    It's  time  we  went. 
Irina.  But,  really,  the  entertainers  ? 
Andbey.  [In  confusion]  There  won't  be  any  entertainers. 
You  see,  dear,  Natasha  says  that  Bobby  isn't  quite  well, 
and  so.  ...  In  a  word,  I  don't  care,  and  it's  absolutely 
all  one  to  me. 
Irina.  [Shrugging  her  shoulders]  Bobby  ill  1 
Masha.  What  is  she  thinking  of  !     Well,  if  they  are  sent 
home,  I  suppose  they  must  go.  [To  Irina]  Bobby's  all  right, 
it's  she  herself.  .  .  .  Here  !   [Taps    her  forehead]   Little 
bourgeoise  ! 

Andrey  goes  io  his  room  through  the  right-hand  door, 

Chebutikin /oZZoii^s  him.    In  the  dining-room  they 

are  saying  good-bye. 

Fedotik.  What  a  shame  !    I  was  expecting  to  spend  the 

evening  here,  but  of  course,  if  the  little  baby  is  ill  .  .  .  I'll 

bring  him  some  toys  to-morrow. 

Rode.  [Loudly]  I  slept  late  after  dinner  to-day  because 
I  thought  I  was  going  to  dance  all  night.  It's  only  nine 
o'clock  now ! 

Masha.  Let's  go  into  the  street,  we  can  talk  there. 
Then  we  can  settle  things. 

Good-byes  and  good  nights  are  heard.    Tuzenbach's 
rrverry  laughter  is  heard.    [All  go  out]  Anfisa  and 
the  maid  clear  the  table,  and  put  out  the  lights.    [The 
nurse  sings]  Andrey,  wearing   an  overcoat  and 
a  hat,  and  Chebutikin  enter  silently. 
Chebutikin.  I    never    managed    to    get    married    be- 
cause   my    life  flashed  by   like    lightning,    and    because 
I    was    madly    in    love    with    your    mother,    who    was 
married. 


170        THE    THREE    SISTERS      actii 

Andrey.  One  shouldn't  marry.  One  shouldn't,  because 
it's  dull. 

Chebutikin.  So  there  I  am,  in  my  loneliness.  Say  what 
you  will,  loneliness  is  a  terrible  thing,  old  fellow.  .  .  . 
Though  really  ...  of  course,  it  absolutely  doesn't  matter  ! 

Andrey.  Let's  be  quicker. 

Chebutikin.  What  are  you  in  such  a  hurry  for  ?  We 
shall  be  in  time. 

Andrey.  I'm  afraid  my  wife  may  stop  me. 

Chebutikin.  Ah ! 

Andrey.  I  shan't  play  to-night,  I  shall  only  sit  and  look 
on.  I  don't  feel  very  well.  .  .  .  What  am  I  to  do  for  my 
asthma,  Ivan  Romanovitch  ? 

Chebutikin.  Don't  ask  me  !  I  don't  remember,  old 
fellow,  I  don't  know. 

Andrey.  Let's  go  through  the  kitchen.        [They  go  out. 
A  bell  rings,  then  a  second  time ;  voices  and  laughter 
are  heard. 

Irina.  [Enters']  What's  that  ? 

Anfisa.  [Wkisfers']  The  entertainers  !  [Bell. 

Irina.  Tell  them  there's  nobody  at  home,  nurse.  They 
must  excuse  us. 

Anfisa  goes  out.    Irina  гса1Ъ  about  the  room  deep 
in  thought ;  she  is  excited.    Soleni  enters. 

Soleni.  [In  surprise]  There's  nobody  here.  .  .  .  W^here 
are  tliey  all  ? 

Irina.  They've  gone  home. 

Soleni.  How  strange.    Are  you  here  alone  ? 

Irina.  Yes,  alone.  [A  pause]  Good-bye. 

Soleni.  Just  now  I  behaved  tactlessly,  with  insufficient 
reserve.  But  you  are  not  like  all  the  others,  you  are  noble 
and  pure,  you  can  see  the  truth.  .  .  .  You  alone  can  under- 
stand me.    I  love  you,  deeply,  beyond  measure,  I  love  you. 


ACT II       THE    THREE    SISTERS       171 

Irina.  Good-bye  !     Go  away. 

Solent.  I  cannot  live  without  you.  [Follows  her]  Oh, 
my  happiness  !  [Through  his  tears]  Oh,  joy  !  Wonderful, 
marvellous,  glorious  eyes,  such  as  I  have  never  seen 
before.  .  .  . 

Irina.  [Coldly]  Stop  it,  Vassili  Vassilevitch  ! 

Solent.  This  is  the  first  time  I  speak  to  you  of  love,  and 

it  is  as  if  I  am  no  longer  on  the  earth,  but  on  another  planet. 

[Wipes  his  forehead]  Well,  never  mind.    I  can't  make  you 

love  me  by  force,  of  course  .  .  .  but  I  don't  intend  to  have 

any  more-favoured  rivals.  .  .  .  No  ...  I  swear  to  you  by 

all  the  saints,  I  shall  kill  my  rival.  .  .  .  Oh,  beautiful  one  ! 

Natasha  enters  vnth  a  candle ;  she  looks  in  through 

one  door,  then  through  another,  and  goes  past  the 

door  leading  to  her  husband's  room. 

Natasha.  Here's  Audrey.  Let  him  go  on  reading. 
Excuse  me,  Vassili  Vassilevitch,  I  did  not  know  you  were 
here  ;  I  am  engaged  in  domesticities. 

Solent.  It's  all  the  same  to  me.    Good-bye  !         [Exit. 

Natasha.  You're  so  tired,  my  poor  dear  girl !  [Kisses 
Irina]  If  you  only  went  to  bed  earlier. 

Irina.  Is  Bobby  asleep  ? 

Natasha.  Yes,  but  restlessly.  By  the  way,  dear,  I 
wanted  to  tell  you,  but  either  you  weren't  at  home,  or  I  was 
busy  ...  I  think  Bobby's  present  nursery  is  cold  and 
damp.  And  your  room  would  be  so  nice  for  the  child. 
My  dear,  darling  girl,  do  change  over  to  Olga's  for  a  bit ! 

Irina.  [Not  understanding]  W^here  ? 

The  bells  of  a  troika  are  heard  as  it  drives  up  to  the 
house. 

Natasha.  You  and  Olga  can  share  a  room,  for  the  time 
being,  and  Bobby  can  have  yours.  He's  such  a  darling ; 
to-day  I  said  to  him,  "  Bobby,  you're  mine  !     Mine  !  " 


172         THE   THREE    SISTERS     actii 

And  he  looked  at  me  with  his  dear  little  eyes.  [A  hell  rings] 
It  must  be  Olgii.  How  late  she  is  !  [The  maid  enters  and 
whiskers  to  Natasha]  Protopopov  ?  What  a  queer  man  to 
do  such  a  thing.  Protopopov 's  come  and  wants  me  to  go  for 
a  drive  with  him  in  his  troika.  [Laughs']  How  funny  these 
men  are.  .  .  .  [A  bell  rings]  Somebody  has  come.  Suppose 
I  did  go  and  have  half  an  hour's  drive.  .  .  .  [To  tlie  maid] 
Say  I  shan't  be  long.  [Bell  rings]  Somebody's  ringing, 
it  must  be  Olga.  [Exit. 

The  maid  runs  out ;  Irina  sits  deep  in  thought ; 
KuLiGiN  and  Olga  enter,  followed  by  VERsmNiN. 

KuLiGiN.  Well,  there  you  are.  And  you  said  there  was 
going  to  be  a  party. 

Vershinin.  It's  queer  ;  I  went  away  not  long  ago,  half 
an  hour  ago,  and  they  were  expecting  entertainers. 

Irina.  They've  all  gone. 

KuLiGiN.  Has  Masha  gone  too  ?  Where  has  she  gone  ? 
And  what's  Protopopov  waiting  for  downstairs  in  his  troika? 
Whom  is  he  expecting  ? 

Irina.  Don't  ask  questions  .  .  .  Гп£  tired. 

KuLiGiN.  Oh,  you're  all  whimsies.  .  .  . 

Olga.  My  committee  meeting  is  only  just  over.  I'm 
tired  out.  Our  chairwoman  is  ill,  so  I  had  to  take  her  place. 
My  head,  my  head  is  aching.  .  .  .  [Sits]  Andrey  lost  200 
roubles  at  cards  yesterday  .  .  .  the  whole  town  is  talking 
about  it.  .  .  . 

KuLiQiN.  Yes,  my  meeting  tired  me  too.  [Sits. 

Vershinin.  My  wife  took  it  into  her  head  to  frighten  me 
just  now  by  nearly  poisoning  herself.  It's  all  right  now, 
and  I'm  glad  ;  I  can  rest  now.  .  .  .  But  perhaps  we  ought 
to  go  away  ?  Well,  my  best  wishes,  Feodor  Hitch,  let's  go 
somewhere  together  !  I  can't,  I  absolutely  can't  stop  at 
home.  .  .  .  Come  on  1 


Астп     THE   THREE    SISTERS        173 

KuLiGiN.  I'm  tired.  I  won't  go.  [Gets  up]  I'm  tired. 
Has  my  wife  gone  home  1 

Irina.  I  suppose  so. 

KuLiGiN.  [Kisses  Irina 's  hand]  Good-bye,  I'm  going  to 
rest  all  day  to-morrow  and  the  day  after.  Best  wishes ! 
[Going]  I  should  like  some  tea.  I  was  looking  forward  to 
spending  the  whole  evening  in  pleasant  company  and — o, 
ШЫсет  hominum  sfem ! . . .  Accusative  case  after  an  inter- 
jection. .  .  . 

Vershinin.  Then  I'll  go  somewhere  by  myself. 

[Exit  with  KuLiGiN,  whistling» 

Olga.  I've  such  a  headache  .  .  .  Andrey  has  been  losing 
money.  .  .  .  The  whole  town  is  talking,  .  .  .  I'll  go  and 
lie  down.  [Going]  I'm  free  to-morrow.  .  .  .  Oh,  my  God, 
what  a  mercy  !  I'm  free  to-morrow,  I'm  free  the  day  after. 
...  Oh  my  head,  my  head.  .  .  .  [Exit. 

Irina.  [alone]  They've  all  gone.    Nobody's  left. 

A  concertina  is  being  flayed  in  the  street.    The  nurse 
sings. 

Natasha,  [in  fur  coat  and  cap,  steps  across  the  dining-room, 
followed  by  the  maid]  I'll  be  back  in  half  an  hour.  I'm  only 
going  for  a  little  drive.  [Exit. 

Irina.  [Alone  in  her  7nisery]  To  Moscow  !  Moscow ! 
Moscow ! 

Curtain. 


ACT   HI 

TJie  room  shared  by  Olga  and  Irina.  Beds,  screened  off,  on 
the  right  and  left.  It  is  past  2  a.m.  Behind  the  stage 
afire-alarm  is  ringing  ;  it  has  affarently  been  going  for 
some  time.  Nobody  in  the  house  has  gone  to  bed  yet. 
Masha  is  lying  on  a  sofa  dressed,  as  usual,  in  black. 
Enter  Olga  and  Anfisa. 

Anfisa.  Now  they  are  downstairs,  sitting  under  the  stairs. 
I  said  to  them,  "  Won't  you  come  up,"  I  said,  "  You  can't 
go  on  like  this,"  and  they  simply  cried,  "  We  don't  know 
where  father  is."  They  said,  "  He  may  '6e  burnt  up  by 
now."  What  an  idea  !  And  in  the  yard  there  are  some 
people  .  .  .  also  undressed. 

Olga.  [Takes  a  dress  out  of  the  cupboard]  Take  this  grey 
dress.  .  .  .  And  this  .  .  .  and  the  blouse  as  well.  .  .  . 
Take  the  skirt,  too,  nurse.  .  .  .  My  God !  How  awful  it 
is  !  The  whole  of  the  Kirsanovsky  Road  seems  to  have 
burned  down.  Take  this  .  .  .  and  this.  .  .  .  [Throws 
clothes  into  her  hands]  The  poor  Vershinins  are  so  frightened. 
.  .  .  Their  house  was  nearly  burnt.  They  ought  to  come 
here  for  the  night.  .  .  .  They  shouldn't  be  allowed  to  go 
home.  .  .  .  Poor  Fedotik  is  completely  burnt  out,  there's 
nothing  left.  .  .  . 

Anfisa.  Couldn't  you  call  Ferapont,  Olga  dear.  I  can 
hardly  manage.  .  .  . 

Olga.  [Rings]  They'll  never  answer,  .  .  .  [At  the  door] 
Come  here,  whoever  there  is  !  [Through  the  open  door  can  be 

174 


ACTiii    THE    THREE    SISTERS         175 

seen  a  window,  red  with  flame  :  afire-engine  is  heard  'passing 
the  house]  How  awful  this  is.  And  how  I'm  sick  of  it ! 
[Ferapont  enters]  Take  these  things  down.  .  .  .  The 
Kolotilin  girls  are  down  below  .  .  .  and  let  them  have 
them.     This,  too.  .  .  . 

Ferapont.  Yes'm.  In  the  year  twelve  Moscow  was 
burning  too.  Oh,  my  God  !  The  Frenchmen  were  sur- 
prised. 

Olga.  Go  on,  go  on.  .  . 

Ferapont.  Yes'm.  [Exit. 

Olga.  Nurse,  dear,  let  them  have  everything.  We  don't 
want  anything.  Give  it  all  to  them,  nurse.  .  .  .  I'm  tired, 
I  can  hardly  keep  on  my  legs.  .  ,  .  The  Vershinins  mustn't 
be  allowed  to  go  home.  .  .  .  The  girls  can  sleep  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  Alexander  Ignateyevitch  can  go  down- 
stairs to  the  Baron's  flat  .  .  .  Fedotik  can  go  there,  too,  or 
eke  into  our  dining-room.  .  .  .  The  doctor  is  drunk,  beastly 
drunk,  as  if  on  purpose,  so  noljody  can  go  to  him.  Ver- 
Bhiuin's  wife,  too,  may  go  into  the  drawing-room. 

Anfisa.  [Tired]  Olga,  dear  girl,  don't  dismiss  me ! 
Don't  dismiss  me ! 

Olga.  You're  talking  nonsense,  nurse.  Nobody  is 
dismissing  you. 

Anfisa.  [Puts  Olga's  head  against  her  bosom]  My  dear, 
precious  girl,  I'm  working,  I'm  toiling  away  .  .  .  I'm 
growing  weak,  and  they'll  all  say  go  away  !  And  where 
shall  I  go  ?  Where  ?  I'm  eighty.  Eighty-one  years 
old.  .  .  . 

Olga.  You  sit  down,  nurse  dear.  .  .  .  You're  tired, 
poor  dear.  .  .  .  [Alakes  her  sit  down]  Rest,  dear.  You're 
80  pale  1 

Natasha  comes  in. 

Natasha.  They  are  saying  that  a  committee  to  assist  the 


176         THE    THREE    SISTERS    actiii 

sufferers  from  the  fire  must  be  formed  at  once.  What  do 
you  think  of  that  ?  It's  a  beautiful  idea.  Of  course  the 
poor  ought  to  be  helped,  it's  the  duty  of  the  rich.  Bobby 
and  little  Sophy  are  sleeping,  sleeping  as  if  nothing  at  all  was 
the  matter.  There's  such  a  lot  of  people  here,  the  place  is 
full  of  them,  wherever  you  go.  There's  influenza  in  the 
town  now.     I'm  afraid  the  children  may  catch  it. 

Olga.  [Not  attending]  In  this  room  we  can't  see  the  fire, 
it's  quiet  here.  .  .  . 

Natasha.  Yes  ...  I  suppose  I'm  all  untidy.  [Before 
the  looking-glass]  They  say  I'm  growing  stout  ...  it  isn't 
true  !  Certainly  it  isn't !  Masha's  asleep  ;  the  poor  thing 
is  tired  out.  .  .  .  [C oldly,  to  A'UFIS a]  Don't  dare  to  be  seated 
in  my  presence  !  Get  up  !  Out  of  this  !  [Exit  Anfisa  ;  a 
pause]  I  don't  understand  what  makes  you  keep  on  that 
old  woman ! 

Olga.  [Confusedly]  Excuse  me,  I  don't  understand 
either  .  .  . 

Natasha.  She's  no  good  here.  She  comes  from  the 
country,  she  ought  to  live  there.  .  .  .  Spoiling  her,  I  call 
it !  I  like  order  in  the  house  !  We  don't  want  any  un- 
necessary people  here.  [Strokes  her  cheek]  You're  tired,  poor 
thing !  Our  head  mistress  is  tired !  And  when  my  little 
Sophie  grows  up  and  goes  to  school  I  shall  be  so  afraid  of  you. 

Olga.  I  shan't  be  head  mistress. 

Natasha.    They'll  appoint  you,  Olga.     It's  settled. 

Olga.  I'll  refuse  the  post.  I  can't  .  .  .  I'm  not 
strong  enough.  .  .  .  [Drinks  water]  You  were  so  rude  to 
nurse  just  now  .  .  .  I'm  sorry.  I  can't  stand  it  .  .  . 
everything  seems  dark  in  front  of  me.  .  .  . 

Natasha.  [Excited]  Forgive  me,  Olga,  forgive  me  ...  I 
didn't  want  to  annoy  you. 

Masha  gets  up,  takes  a  pillow  and  goes  out  angrily. 


ACTiii   THE    THREE    SISTERS         177 

Olga.  Remember,  dear  ...  we  have  been  brought  up, 
in  an  unusual  way,  perhaps,  but  I  can't  bear  this.  Such 
behaviour  has  a  bad  effect  on  me,  I  get  ill  ...  1  simply  lose 
heart ! 

Natasha.  Forgive  me,  forgive  me.  .  .  .        [Kisses  her. 

Olga.  Even  the  least  bit  of  rudeness,  the  slightest  im- 
politeness, upsets  me. 

Natasha.  I  often  say  too  much,  it's  true,  but  you 
must  agree,  dear,  that  she  could  just  as  well  live  in  the 
country. 

Olga.  She  has  been  with  us  for  thirty  years. 

Natasha.  But  she  can't  do  any  work  now.  Either  I 
don't  understand,  or  you  don't  want  to  understand  me. 
She's  no  good  for  work,  she  can  only  sleep  or  sit  about. 

Olga.  And  let  her  sit  about. 

Natasha.  [Surprised]  What  do  you  mean  1  She's  only 
a  servant.  [Crying]  I  don't  understand  you,  Olga.  I've 
got  a  nurse,  a  wet-nurse,  we've  a  cook,  a  housemaid  .  .  . 
what  do  we  want  that  old  woman  for  as  well  ?  What  good 
is  she  ?  [Fire-alarm  behind  the  stage. 

Olga.  I've  grown  ten  years  older  to-night. 

Natasha.  We  must  come  to  an  agreement,  Olga.  Your 
place  is  the  school,  mine — the  home.  You  devote  yourself 
to  teaching,  I,  to  the  household.  And  if  I  talk  about 
servants,  then  I  do  know  what  I  am  talking  about ;  I  do 
know  what  I  am  talking  about.  .  .  .  And  to-morrow  there's 
to  be  no  more  of  that  old  thief,  that  old  hag  .  .  .  [Stamping] 
that  witch  !  And  don't  you  dare  to  annoy  me  !  Don't 
you  dare !  [Stopping  short]  Really,  if  you  don't  move 
downstairs,  we  shall  always  be  quarrelling.  This  is 
awful. 

Enter  Kuligtn. 

KuLiGiN.  Where's  Masha  ?     It's  time  we  went  home. 


178         THE    THREE    SISTERS    лет  iii 

The  fire  seems  to  Ijc  going  down.  [Stretches  himself]  Only 
one  block  has  burnt  down,  but  there  was  such  a  wind  that 
it  seemed  at  first  the  whole  town  was  going  to  burn.  [Sits] 
I'm  tired  out.  My  dear  Olga  ...  I  often  think  that  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Masha,  I  should  have  married  you.  You  are 
awfully  nice.  ...  I  am  absolutely  tired  out.  [Listens. 

Olga.  What  is  it  ? 

KuLiGiN.  The  doctor,  of  course,  has  been  drinking  hard  ; 
he's  terribly  drunk.  He  might  have  done  it  on  purpose  ! 
[Gets  wp]  He  seems  to  be  coming  here.  ...  Do  you  hear 
him  ?  Yes,  here.  .  .  .  [Laughs]  What  a  man  .  .  .  really 
.  .  .  I'll  hide  myself.  [Goes  to  the  cupboard  and  stands  in  the 
corner]  What  a  rogue. 

Olga.  He  hadn't  touched  a  drop  for  two  years,  and  now 
he  suddenly  goes  and  get's  drunk.  .  .  . 

[Retires  with  Natasha  to  the  back  of  the  room. 
Chebutikin  enters  ;  apparently  sober,  he  stops,  looks 
round,  then  gees  to  the  wash-stand  and  begins  to 
wash  his  hands. 

Chebutikin.  [Angrily]  Devil  take  them  all  .  .  .  take 
them  all.  .  .  .  They  think  I'm  a  doctor  and  can  сше  every- 
thing, and  I  know  absolutely  nothing,  I've  forgotten  all 
I  ever  knew,  I  remember  nothing,  absolutely  nothing. 
[Olga  and  Natasha  go  out,  unnoticed  by  him]  Devil  take 
it.  Last  Wednesday  I  attended  a  woman  in  Zasip — and  she 
died,  and  it's  my  fault  that  she  died.  Yes  ...  I  used 
to  know  a  certain  amount  five-and-twenty  years  ago,  but 
I  don't  remember  anything  now.  Nothing.  Perhaps  I'm 
not  really  a  man,  and  am  only  pretending  that  I've  got  arms 
and  legs  and  a  head  ;  perhaps  I  don't  exist  at  all,  and  only 
imagine  that  I  walk,  and  eat,  and  sleep.  [Cries]  Oh,  if  only 
I  didn't  exist !  [Stops  crying ;  angrily]  The  devil  only 
knows.  .  .  .  Day  before  yesterday  they  were  talking  in  the 


ACTiii    THE   THREE    SISTERS         179 

club  ;  they  said,  Shakespeare,  Voltaire  ...  I'd  never  read, 
never  read  at  all,  and  I  put  on  an  expression  as  if  I  had  read. 
And  so  did  the  others.  Oh,  how  beastly  !  How  petty  ! 
And  then  I  remembered  the  woman  I  killed  on  Wednesday 
.  .  .  and  I  couldn't  get  her  out  of  my  mind,  and  everything 
in  my  mind  became  crooked,  nasty,  wretched.  .  .  .  So  I 
went  and  drank.  .  .  . 

Irina,  VERsmNiN  and  Tuzenbach  enter ;  Tuzen- 
BACH  is  wearing  new  and  fashionable  civilian 
clothes. 

Irina.  Let's  sit  down  here.  Nobody  will  come  in 
here. 

VERsmNiN.  The  whole  town  would  have  been  destroyed 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  soldiers.  Good  men  !  [Rubs  his 
hands  appreciatively]  Splendid  people  !  Oh,  what  a  fine 
lot! 

KuLiGiN.  [Coming  up  to  him]  What's  the  time  1 

Tuzenbach.  It's  past  three  now.    It's  dawning. 

Irina.  They  are  all  sitting  in  the  dining-room,  nobody 
is  going.    And  that  Soleni  of  yours  is  sitting  there.  .  . 
[To  Chebutikin]  Hadn't  you  better  be  going  to  sleep, 
doctor  ? 

Chebutikin.  It's  all  right  .  .  .  thank  you.  .  .  . 

[Combs  his  beard. 

KuLiGiN.  [LaugJis]  Speaking's  a  bit  difficult,  eh,  Ivan 
Komanovitch  !  [Pats  him  on  the  shoulder]  Good  man  !  In 
vino  Veritas,  the  ancients  used  to  say. 

Tuzenbach.  They  keep  on  asking  me  to  get  up  a  concert 
in  aid  of  the  sufferers. 

Irina.  As  if  one  could  do  anything.  .  .  . 

Tuzenbach.  It  might  be  arranged,  if  necessary.  In  my 
opinion  Maria  Sergeyevna  is  an  excellent  pianist. 

KuLTGiN.  Yes,  excellent ! 


180         THE    THREE    SISTERS    actiii 

Irina.  She's  forgotten  everything.  She  hasn't  played 
for  three  years  ...  or  four. 

TuzENBAcn.  In  this  town  absolutely  nobody  understands 
music,  not  a  soul  except  myself,  but  I  do  understand  it,  and 
assure  you  on  my  word  of  honour  that  Maria  Sergeyevna 
plays  excellently,  almost  with  genius. 

KuLiGiN.  You  are  right,  Baron,  I'm  awfully  fond  of 
Masha.     She's  very  fine. 

TuzENBACH.  To  be  able  to  play  so  admirably  and  to 
realize  at  the  same  time  that  nobody,  nobody  can  under- 
stand you ! 

KuLiGiN.  [Sighs]  Yes.  .  .  .  But  will  it  be  quite  all  right 
for  her  to  take  part  in  a  concert  ?  [Pause]  You  see,  I  don't 
know  anything  about  it.  Perhaps  it  will  even  be  all  to  the 
good.  Although  I  must  admit  that  our  Director  is  a  good 
man,  a  very  good  man  even,  a  very  clever  man,  still  he  has 
such  views.  ...  Of  course  it  isn't  his  business  but  still,  if 
you  wish  it,  perhaps  I'd  better  talk  to  him. 

Chebutikin  takes  a  porcelain  clock  into  his  hands  and 
examines  it. 

Vershinin.  I  got  so  dirty  while  the  fire  was  on,  I  don't 
look  like  anybody  on  earth.  [Pause]  Yesterday  I  happened 
to  hear,  casually,  that  they  want  to  transfer  our  brigade  to 
some  distant  place.  Some  said  to  Poland,  others,  to 
Chita. 

TuzENBACH.  I  heard  so,  too.  Well,  if  it  is  so,  the  town 
will  be  quite  empty. 

Irina.  And  we'll  go  away,  too  ! 

Chebutikin.  [Drops  the  clock  which  breaks  to  pieces]  To 
smithereens  ! 

A  pause  ;  everybody  is  pained  and  confused. 

KuLiGiN.  [Gathering  up   the   pieces]  To   smash    such    a 


Астш    THE    THREE    SISTERS         181 

valuable  object — oh,  Ivan  Romano  vitch,  Ivan  Romanovitch  ! 
A  very  bad  mark  for  your  misbehaviour  ! 

Irina.  That  clock  used  to  belong  to  our  mother. 

Chebutikin.  Perhaps.  ...  To  your  mother,  your  mother. 
Perhaps  I  didn't  break  it;  it  only  looks  as  if  I  broke 
it.  Perhaps  we  only  think  that  we  exist,  when  really 
we  don't.  I  don't  know  anything,  nobody  knows  any- 
thing. [At  the  door]  What  are  you  looking  at  ?  Natasha 
has  a  little  romance  with  Protopopov,  and  you  don't  see 
it.  .  .  .  There  you  sit  and  see  nothing,  and  Natasha  has 
a  little  romance  with  Protopovov.  .  .  .  [Sings]  Won't  you 
please  accept  this  date.  .  .  .  [Exit. 

Vershinin.  Yes.  [Laughs]  How  strange  everything  really 
is  !  [Pause]  When  the  fire  broke  out,  I  hurried  ofi  home  ; 
when  I  get  there  I  see  the  house  is  whole,  uninjured,  and  in 
no  danger,  but  my  two  girls  are  standing  by  the  door  in  just 
their  underclothes,  their  mother  isn't  there,  the  crowd  is 
excited,  horses  and  dogs  are  running  about,  and  the  girls' 
faces  are  so  agitated,  terrified,  beseeching,  and  I  don't  know 
what  else.  My  heart  was  pained  when  I  saw  those  faces. 
My  God,  I  thought,  what  these  girls  will  have  to  put  up 
with  if  they  live  long  !  I  caught  them  up  and  ran,  and  still 
kept  on  thinking  the  one  thing  :  what  they  will  have  to  live 
through  in  this  world  !  [Fire-alarm  ;  a  fause]  I  come  here 
and  find  their  mother  shouting  and  angry.  [Masha  enters 
with  a  pillow  and  sits  on  the  sofa]  And  when  my  girls  were 
standing  by  the  door  in  just  their  underclothes,  and  the 
street  was  red  from  the  fire,  there  was  a  dreadful  noise,  and 
I  thought  that  something  of  the  sort  used  to  happen  many 
years  ago  when  an  enemy  made  a  sudden  attack,  and  looted, 
and  burned.  .  .  .  And  at  the  same  time  what  a  difference 
there  really  is  betwp.^n  the  present  and  the  past !     And  when 


182         THE    THRP:E    sisters    ЛСТ111 

a  little  more  time  has  gone  Ъу,  in  two  or  three  hundred 
years  perhaps,  people  will  look  at  our  present  life  with  just 
the  same  fear,  and  the  same  contempt,  and  the  whole  jiast 
will  seem  clumsy  and  dull,  and  very  uncomfortable,  and 
strange.  Oh,  indeed,  what  a  life  there  will  be,  what  a  life  ! 
[LaugJis]  Forgive  me,  I've  dropped  into  philosophy  again. 
Please  let  me  continue.  I  do  awfully  want  to  philosophize, 
it's  just  how  I  feel  at  present.  [Pause]  As  if  they  are  all 
asleep.  As  I  was  saying  :  what  a  life  there  will  be  !  Only 
just  imagine.  .  .  .  There  are  only  three  persons  like  your- 
selves in  the  town  just  now,  but  in  future  generations  there 
will  be  more  and  more,  and  still  more,  and  the  time  will  come 
when  everything  will  change  and  become  as  you  would  have 
it,  people  will  live  as  you  do,  and  then  you  too  will  go  out 
of  date  ;  people  will  be  born  who  are  better  than  you.  .  .  . 
[Laughs]  Yes,  to-day  I  am  quite  exceptionally  in  the  vein. 
I  am  devilishly  keen  on  living.  .  .  .  [Si7igs. 

"  The  power  of  love  all  ages  know, 
From  its  assaults  great  good  does  grow." 

[Laughs, 
Masha.  Trum-tum-tum  .  .  . 

VERsmNiN.  Tum-tum  .  .  • 

Masha.  Tra-ra-ra  ? 

VEEsmNiN.  Tra-ta-ta.  [Laughs. 

Enter  Fedotik. 

Fedotik.  [Dancing]  I'm  burnt  out,  I'm  burnt  out  1 
Down  to  the  ground  !  [Laughter. 

Irina.  I  don't  see  anything  funny  about  it.  Is  every- 
thing burnt  ? 

Fedotik.  [Laiujhs]  Absolutely.  Nothing  left  at  all. 
The  giiitar's  burnt,  and  the  photographs  are  burnt,  and  all 
my  correspondence.  .  .  .  And  I  was  going  to  make  you  a 
present  of  a  note-book,  and  that's  burnt  too. 


ACTiii    THE    THREE    SISTERS  183 

SoLENi  comes  in. 

Ibina.  No,  you  can't  come  here,  Vassili  Vassilevitch. 
Please  go  away. 

SoLENi.  Why  can  the  Baron  come  here  and  I  can't  ? 

VERsmNiN.  We  really  must  go.     How's  the  fire  ? 

SoLENi.  They  say  it's  going  down.  No,  I  absolutely 
don't  see  why  the  Baron  can,  and  I  can't  ? 

[Scents  his  hands. 

Vershinin.  Trum-tum-tum. 

Masha.  Trum-tum. 

Vershinin.  [Laughs  to  Soleni]  Let's  go  into  the  dining- 
room. 

SoLENi.  Very  well,  we'll  make  a  note  of  it.  "  If  I  should 
try  to  make  this  clear,  the  geese  woidd  be  annoyed,  I  fear." 
[Looks  at  Tuzenbach]  There,  there,  there.  .  .  . 

[Goes  out  with  VERSmNiN  and  Fedotik. 

Irina.  How  Soleni  smelt  of  tobacco.  .  .  .  [In  surfrise] 
The  Baron's  asleep  !     Baron  !  Baron  ! 

Tuzenbach.  [Waking]  I  am  tired,  I  must  say.  .  .  .  The 
brickworks.  .  .  .  No,  I'm  not  wandering,  I  mean  it ;  I'm 
going  to  start  work  soon  at  the  brickworks  .  .  .  I've  akeady 
talked  it  over.  [Tenderly,  to  Irina]  You're  so  pale,  and 
beautiful,  and  charming.  .  .  .  Your  paleness  seems  to  shine 
through  the  dark  air  as  if  it  was  a  light.  .  .  .  You  are  sad, 
displeased  with  life.  .  .  .  Oh,  come  with  me,  let's  go  and 
work  together  ! 

Masha.  Nicolai  Lvovitch,  go  away  from  here. 

Tuzenbach.  [Laughs]  Are  you  here  ?  I  didn't  see  you. 
[Kisses  Irina's  hand]  ood-bye,  I'll  go  ...  I  look  at  you 
now  and  I  remember,  as  if  it  was  long  ago,  your  name-day, 
when  you,  cheerfully  and  merrily,  were  talking  about  the 
joys  of  labour.  .  .  .  And  how  happy  life  seemed  to  me, 
then  !     What  has  happened  to  it  now  ?  [Kisses  her  hand] 


184         THE    THREE    SISTERS    act iii 

There  are  tears  in  your  eyc8.  Go  to  bed  now;  it  is  already 
day  .  •  .  the  morning  begins.  .'.  .  If  only  I  was  allowed 
to  give  my  life  for  you  ! 

Masua.  Nicolai  Lvovitch,  go  away  !     What  business  . .  . 

TuzExMBACH.  I'm  off.  [Exit. 

Masha.  [Lies  down]  Are  you  asleep,  Feodor  ? 

KULIGIN.  Eh  ? 

Masha.  Shouldn't  you  go  home. 

KuLiGiN.  My  dear  Masha,  my  darling  Masha.  .  .  . 

Irina.  She's  tired  out.    You  might  let  her  rest,  Fedia. 

KuLiGiN.  I'll  go  at  once.  My  wife's  a  good,  splendid  .  .  . 
I  love  you,  my  only  one.  .  .  . 

Masha.  [Angrily]  Amo,  amas,  amat,  amamus,  amatis, 
amant. 

KuLiGiN.  [Laughs]  No,  she  really  is  wonderful,  I've 
been  your  husband  seven  years,  and  it  seems  as  if  I  was 
only  married  yesterday.  On  my  word.  No,  you  really  are 
a  wonderful  woman.  I'm  satisfied,  I'm  satisfied,  I'm 
satisfied ! 

Masha.  I'm  borod,  I'm  bored,  I'm  bored.  .  .  .  [Sits  up] 
But  I  can't  get  ib  out  of  my  head.  .  .  .  It's  simply  dis- 
graceful. It  has  been  gnawing  away  at  me  ...  I  can't 
keep  silent.  I  mean  about  Audrey.  .  .  .  He  has  mortgaged 
this  house  with  the  bank,  and  his  wife  has  got  all  the  money  ; 
but  the  house  doesn't  belong  to  him  alone,  but  to  the  four 
of  us  I  He  ought  to  know  that,  if  he's  an  honourable 
man. 

KuLiGiN.  What's  the  use,  Masha  ?  Audrey  is  in  debt  all 
round  ;  well,  let  him  do  as  he  pleases. 

Masha.  It's  disgraceful,  anyway.  [Lies  down 

KuLiGiN.  You  and  I  are  not  poor.  I  work,  take  my 
classes,  give  private  lessons  ...  I  am  a  plain,  honest  man 
.  .  .  Omnia  mea  mecum  porto,  as  they  say. 


ACT  III    THE    THREE    SISTERS         185 

Masha.  I  don't  want  anything,  but  the  unfairness  of  it 
disgusts  me.  [Pause]  You  go,  Feodor. 

KuLiGiN.  [Kisses  her]  You're  tired,  just  rest  for  half  an 
hour,  and  I'll  sit  and  wait  for  you.  Sleep.  .  .  .  [Going] 
I'm  satisfied,  I'm  satisfied,  I'm  satisfied.  [Exit. 

Irina.  Yes,  really,  our  Andrey  has  gro^  n  smaller  ;  how 
he's  snu5ed  out  and  aged  with  that  woman  !  He  used  to 
want  to  be  a  professor,  and  yesterday  he  was  boasting  that 
at  last  he  had  been  made  a  member  of  the  district  council. 
He  is  a  member,  and  Protopopov  is  chairman.  .  .  .  The 
whole  town  talks  and  laughs  about  it,  and  he  alone  knows 
and  sees  nothing.  .  .  .  And  now  everybody's  gone  to  look 
at  the  fire,  but  he  sits  alone  in  his  room  and  pays  no  atten- 
tion, only  just  plays  on  his  fiddle.  [Nervily]  Oh,  it's  awful, 
awful,  awful.  [TFeeps]  I  can't,  I  can't  bear  it  any  longer  ! 
...  I  can't,  I  can't !  .  .  .  [Olga  comes  in  and  clears  up 
at  her  little  table.  Irina  is  sobbing  loudly]  Throw  me  out, 
throw  me  out,  I  can't  bear  any  more  ! 

Olga.  [Alarmed]  What  is  it,  what  is  it  1     Dear  ! 

Irina  !  [Sobbing]  Where  ?  Where  has  everything  gone  ? 
Where  is  it  all  ?  Oh  my  God,  my  God  !  I've  forgotten 
everything,  everything  ...  I  don't  remember  what  is  the 
Italian  for  window  or,  well,  for  ceiling  ...  I  forget  every- 
thing, every  day  I  forget  it,  and  life  passes  and  will  never 
return,  and  we'll  never  go  away  to  Moscow  ...  I  see  that 
we'll  never  go.  .  .  . 

Olga.  Dear,  dear.  .  .  . 

Irina.  [Controlling  herself]  Oh,  I  am  unhappy  ...  I 
can't  work,  I  shan't  work.  Enough,  enough  !  I  used  to 
be  a  telegraphist,  now  I  work  at  the  town  council  offices, 
and  I  have  nothing  but  hate  and  contempt  for  all  they  give 
me  to  do  ...  I  am  already  twenty-three,  I  have  already 
been  at  work  for  a  long  while,  and  my  brain  has  dried  up. 


18G         THE    THREE    SISTERS    лепи 

and  I've  grown  thinner,  plainer,  older,  and  there  is  no  relief 
of  any  sort,  and  time  goes  and  it  seems  all  the  while  as  if  I 
am  going  away  from  the  real,  the  beautiful  life,  farther  and 
farther  away,  down  some  precipice.  I'm  in  despair  and  I 
can't  understand  liow  it  is  that  I  am  still  alive,  that  I 
haven't  killed  myself. 

Olga.  Don't  cry,  dear  girl,  don't  cry  ...  I  suffer,  too. 

Irina.  I'm  not  crying,  not  crying.  .  .  .  Enough.  .  .  . 
Look,  I'm  not  crying  any  more.    Enough  .  .  .  enough  I 

Olga.  Dear,  I  tell  you  as  a  sister  and  a  friend,  if  you  want 
my  advice,  marry  the  Baron.  [Irina  cries  softly]  You 
respect  him,  you  think  highly  of  him.  ...  It  is  true  that 
he  is  not  handsome,  but  he  is  so  honourable  and  clean 
.  .  .  people  don't  marry  from  love,  but  in  order  to  do  one's 
duty.  I  think  so,  at  any  rate,  and  I'd  marry  without  being 
in  love.  Whoever  he  was,  I  should  marry  him,  so  long  as 
he  was  a  decent  man.     Even  if  he  was  old.  .  .  . 

Irina.  I  was  always  waiting  until  we  should  be  settled 
in  Moscow,  there  I  should  meet  my  true  love  ;  I  used  to 
think  about  him,  and  love  him.  .  .  .  But  it's  all  turned 
out  to  be  nonsense,  all  nonsense.  .  .  . 

Olga.  [Embraces  her  sister]  My  dear,  beautiful  sister,  I 
understand  everything  ;  when  Baron  Nicolai  Lvovitch  left 
the  army  and  came  to  us  in  evening  dress,*  he  seemed  so 
bad-looking  to  me  that  I  even  started  crying.  ,  .  .  He 
asked, "  What  are  you  crying  for  ?  "  How  could  I  tell  him  ! 
But  if  God  brought  him  to  marry  you,  I  should  be  happy. 
That  would  be  different,  quite  different. 

Natasha  with  a  candle  walks  across  the  stage  from 
right  to  left  without  saying  anything. 

Masha.  [Sitting  wp]  She  walks  as  if  she's  set  something 
on  fire. 

*  I.e.  in  the  correct  dress  for  making;  a  proposal  of  marriage. 


ACTiii    THE    THREE    SISTERS         187 

Olga.  Masha,  you're  silly,  you're  the  silliest  of  the 
family.    Please  forgive  me  for  saying  so.  [Pause. 

Masha.  I  want  to  make  a  confession,  dear  sisters.  My 
soul  is  in  pain.  I  will  confess  to  you,  and  never  again  to 
anybody  .  .  .  I'll  tell  you  this  minute.  [Softly]  It's  my 
secret  but  you  must  know  everything  ...  I  can't  be 
silent.  .  .  .  [Pause]  I  love,  I  love  ...  I  love  that  man. 
.  .  .  You  saw  him  only  just  now.  .  .  .  Why  don't  I  say 
it  ...  in  one  word.     I  love  Vershinin. 

Olga.  [Goes  behind  her  screen]  Stop  that,  I  don't  hear 
you  in  any  case. 

Masha.  What  am  I  to  do  ?  [Takes  her  head  in  her  hands] 
First  he  seemed  queer  to  me,  then  I  was  sorry  for  him  .  .  . 
then  I  fell  in  love  with  him  .  .  .  fell  in  love  with  his  voice, 
his  words,  his  misfortunes,  his  two  daughters. 

Olga.  [Behind  the  screen]  I'm  not  listening.  You  may 
talk  any  nonsense  you  like,  it  will  be  all  the  same,  I  shan't 
hear. 

Masha.  Oh,  Olga,  you  are  foolish.  I  am  in  love — that 
means  that  is  to  be  my  fate.  It  means  that  is  to  be  my 
lot.  .  .  .  And  he  loves  me.  ...  It  is  all  awful.  Yes  ;  it 
isn't  good,  is  it  ?  [Takes  Irina's  hand  and  draws  her  to  her] 
Oh,  my  dear.  .  .  .  How  are  we  going  to  live  through  our 
lives,  what  is  to  become  of  us.  .  .  .  When  you  read  a  novel 
it  all  seems  so  old  and  easy,  but  when  you  fall  in  love  your- 
self, then  you  learn  that  nobody  knows  anything,  and  each 
must  decide  for  himself.  .  .  .  My  dear  ones,  my  sisters  .  .  . 
I've  confessed,  now  I  shall  keep  silence.  .  .  .  Like  the 
lunatics  in  Gogol's  story,  I'm  going  to  be  silent  .  .  . 
silent  .  .  . 

Andrey  enters,  followed  by  Ferapont. 

Andre Y.  [Angrily]  What  do  you  want  ?  I  don't  under- 
stand. 


188         ТНК    THREE    SISTERS    лстш 

Ferapont.  [Al  the  door,  impalienlly]  I've  already  tcld 
you  ten  times,  Androy  Sergeyevitch. 

Andrey.  In  the  first  place  I'm  not  Andrey  Sergeyevitch, 
but  sir.* 

Ferapont.  The  firemen,  sir,  ask  if  they  can  go  across  your 
garden  to  the  river.  Else  they  go  right  round,  right  round  ; 
it's  a  nuisance. 

Andrey.  All  right.  Tell  them  it's  all  right.  [Exit  Fera- 
pont] I'm  tired  of  them.  Where  is  Olga  ?  [Olga  entries 
out  from  behind  the  screen]  I  came  to  you  for  the  key  of  the 
cupboard.  I  lost  my  own.  You've  got  a  little  key. 
[Olga  gives  him  the  hey  ;  Irina  goes  behind  her  screen  ;  'pause'] 
What  a  huge  fire  !  It's  going  down  now.  Hang  it  all,  that 
Ferapont  made  me  so  angry  that  I  talked  nonsense  to  him. 
.  .  .  Sir,  indeed.  .  .  .  {A  fause]  Why  are  you  so  silent, 
Olga  1  [Pause]  It's  time  you  stopped  all  that  nonsense  and 
behaved  as  if  you  were  properly  alive.  .  .  .  You  are  here, 
Masha.  Irina  is  here,  well,  since  we're  all  here,  let's  come  to 
a  complete  understanding,  once  and  for  all.  What  have 
you  against  me  ?     What  is  it  ? 

Olga.  Please  don't,  Andrey  dear.  We'll  talk  to-morrow. 
[Excited]  What  an  awful  night ! 

Andrey.  [Much  confused]  Don't  excite  yourself.  I  ask 
you  in  perfect  calmness  ;  what  have  you  against  me  ?  Tell 
me  straight. 

VERsmNiN's  Voice.  Trum-tum-tum ! 

Masha.  [Stands ;  loudly]  Tra-ta-ta  !  [To  Olga]  Good- 
bye, Olga,  God  bless  you.  [Goes  behind  screen  and  kisses 
Irina]  Sleep  well.  .  .  .  Good-bye,  Andrey.  Go  away  now, 
they're  tired  .  .  .  you  can  explain  to-morrow.  .  .  . 

[Exit. 

*  Quite  literally,  "your  high  honour,"  to  correspond  to  Andrey's 
rank  as  a  civil  servant. 


ACT  III    THE    THREE    SISTERS         189 

Andkey.  I'll  only  say  this  and  go.  Just  now.  ...  In 
the  first  place,  you've  got  something  against  Natasha,  my 
wife;  I've  noticed  it  since  the  very  day  of  my  marriage. 
Natasha  is  a  beautiful  and  honest  creature,  straight  and 
honourable — that's  my  opinion.  I  love  and  respect  my 
wife ;  understand  it,  I  respect  her,  and  I  insist  that  others 
should  respect  her  too.  I  repeat,  she's  an  honest  and 
honourable  person,  and  all  your  disapproval  is  simply  silly 
.  .  .  [Pause]  In  the  second  place,  you  seem  to  be  annoyed 
because  I  am  not  a  professor,  and  am  not  engaged  in  study. 
But  I  work  for  the  zemstvo,  I  am  a  member  of  the  district 
council,  and  I  consider  my  service  as  worthy  and  as  high 
as  the  service  of  science.  I  am  a  member  of  the  district 
council,  and  I  am  proud  of  it,  if  you  want  to  know.  .  .  . 
[Pause]  In  the  third  place,  I  have  still  this  to  say  .  .  .  that 
I  have  mortgaged  the  house  without  obtaining  your  per- 
mission. .  .  .  For  that  I  am  to  blame,  and  ask  to  be  for- 
given. My  debts  led  me  into  doing  it  .  .  .  thirty-five 
thousand  ...  I  do  not  play  at  cards  any  more,  I  stopped 
long  ago,  but  the  chief  thing  I  have  to  say  in  my  defence 
is  that  you  girls  receive  a  pension,  and  I  don't  .  .  .  my 
wages,  so  to  speak.  .  .  .  [Pause. 

KuLiGiN.  [At  the  door]  Is  Masha  there  ?  [Excitedly] 
Where  is  she  ?     It's  queer.  .  .  .  [Exit. 

Andrey.  They  don't  hear.  Natasha  is  a  splendid,  honest 
person.  [Walks  about  in  silence,  then  stops]  When  I  married 
I  thought  we  should  be  happy  ...  all  of  us.  .  .  .  But,  my 
God.  .  .  .  [TFeeps]  My  dear,  dear  sisters,  don't  beHeve  me, 
don't  believe  me.  .  .  .  [Exit. 

Fire-alarm.    The  stage  is  clear. 

Irina.  [behind  her  screen]  Olga,  who's  knocking  on  the 
floor  1 

Oloa.  It's  doctor  Ivan  Romanovitch     He's  dr:? 


190         THE    THREE    SISTERS    actiii 

Irina.  What  a  restless  night !  [Pause]  Olga  !  [Lcoks 
out]  Did  you  hear  ?  They  are  taking  the  brigade  away 
from  us  ;  it's  going  to  be  transferred  to  some  place  far  away. 

Olga.  It's  only  a  rumour. 

Irina.  Then  we  shall  be  left  alone.  .  .  .  Olga  I 

Olga.  Well? 

Irina.  My  dear,  darling  sister,  I  esteem,  I  highly  value 
the  Baron,  he's  a  splendid  man  ;  I'll  marry  him,  I'll  consent, 
only  let's  go  to  Moscow  !  I  implore  you,  let's  go  !  There's 
nothing  better  than  Moscow  on  earth  !  Let's  go,  Olga,  let's 
go! 

Curtain 


ACT   IV 

The  old  garden  at  the  house  of  the  Prosorovs.  There  is  a 
long  avenue  of  firs,  at  the  end  of  which  the  river  can  be 
seen.  There  is  a  forest  on  the  far  side  of  the  river.  On 
the  right  is  the  terrace  of  the  house  :  bottles  and  tumblers 
are  on  a  table  here  ;  it  is  evident  that  champagne  has  just 
been  drunh.  It  is  midday.  Every  now  and  again 
passers-by  walk  across  the  garden,  from  the  road  to  the 
river  ;  five  soldiers  go  past  rapidly.  Chebutikin,  in  a 
comfortable  frame  of  mind  which  does  not  desert  him 
throughout  the  act,  sits  in  an  armchair  in  the  garden, 
waiting  to  be  called.  He  wears  a  peaked  cap  and  has 
a  stick.  Irina,  Kuligin  with  a  cross  hanging  from  his 
neck  and  without  his  moustaches,  and  TuzE>rBACH  are 
standing  on  the  terrace  seeing  off  Fedotik  and  Rode, 
who  are  coming  down  into  the  garden ;  both  officers  are 
in  service  uniform. 

TuzENBACH.  {Exchanges  kisses  with  Fedotik]  You're  a 
good  sort,  we  got  on  so  well  together.  {Exchanges  kisses 
with  Rode]  Once  again.  .  .  .  Good-bye,  old  man  ! 

Irina.  Au  revoir ! 

Fedotik.  It  isn't  au  revoir,  it's  good-bye ;  we'll  never 
meet  again  ! 

Kuligin.  Who  knows  !  {Wipes  his  eyes ;  smiles]  Here 
I've  started  crying  ! 

Irina.  We'll  meet  again  sometime. 

Fedotik.  After  ten  years — or  fifteen  ?  We'll  hardly 
191 


192         Т  II  E    Т  II  R  E  E    S  I  S  T  E  R  S    act  iv 

know  one  another  then  ;  we'll  say,  "  How  do  you  do  ?  " 
coldly.  .  .  .  [Takes  a  snafshot]  Keep  still.  .  .  .  Once  more, 
for  the  last  time. 

Rode.  [Embracing  Tuzenbach]  We  shan't  meet  again. 
.  .  .  [Kisses  Irina's  hand]  Thank  you  for  everything,  for 
everything  ! 

Fedotik.  [Grieved]  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry  ! 

Tuzenbach.  We  shall  meet  again,  if  God  wills  it.  Write 
to  us.    Be  sure  to  write. 

Rode.  [Looking  round  the  garden]  Good-bye,  trees ! 
[Shouts]  Yo-ho  !  [Pause]  Good-bye,  echo  ! 

KuLiGiN.  Best  wishes.  Go  and  get  yourselves  wives 
there  in  Poland.  .  .  .  Your  Polish  wife  will  clasp  you  and 
call  you  "  kochanku  !  "  *  [Laughs. 

Fedotik.  [Looking  at  the  time]  There's  less  than  an  hour 
left.  Solcni  is  the  only  one  of  our  battery  who  is  going  on 
the  barge ;  the  rest  of  us  are  going  with  the  main  body. 
Three  batteries  are  leaving  to-day,  another  three  to-morrow 

and  then  the  town  will  be  quiet  and  peaceful. 

Tuzenbach.  And  terribly  dull. 

Rode.  And  where  is  Maria  Sergeyevna  1 

KuLiGiN.  Masha  is  in  the  garden. 

Fedotik.  We'd  like  to  say  good-bye  to  her. 

Rode.  Good-bye,  I  must  go,  or  else  I'll  start  weeping. 
.  .  .  [Quickly  embraces  Kuligin  and  Tuzenbach,  a^id  kisses 
Irina's  hand]  We've  been  so  happy  here.  .  .  . 

Fedotik.  [To  Kuligin]  Here's  a  keepsake  for  you  .  .  . 
a  note-book  with  a  pencil.  .  .  .  We'll  go  to  the  river  from 
here.  .  .  .  [They  go  aside  and  both  look  round. 

Rode.  [Shouts]  Yo-ho ! 

Kuligin.  [Shouts]  Good-bye 

•  Darling. 


ACT IV    THE    THREE    SISTERS         193 

At  the  back  of  the  stage  Fedotik  шгй  Rode  meet 
Masha  ;  they  say  good-bye  and  go  out  with  her. 

Irina.  They've  gone.  .  .  . 

{Sits  on  the  bottom  step  of  the  terrace. 

Chebutikin.  And  they  forgot  to  say  good-bye  to 
me. 

Irina.  But  why  is  that  ? 

Chebutikin.  I  just  forgot,  somehow.  Though  I'll  soon 
see  them  again,  I'm  going  to-morrow.  Yes  .  .  .  just  one 
day  left.  I  shall  be  retired  in  a  year,  then  I'll  come  here 
again  and  finish  my  life  near  you.  I've  only  one  year  before 
I  get  my  pension.  .  .  .  [Puts  one  newspafer  into  his  pocket 
and  takes  another  out]  I'll  come  here  to  you  and  change  my 
life  radically  .  .  .  I'll  be  so  quiet  .  .  .  so  agree  .  .  .  agree- 
able, respectable.  .  .  . 

Irina.  Yes,  you  ought  to  change  your  life,  dear  man, 
somehow  or  other. 

Chebutikin.  Yes,  I  feel  it.  [Sings  softly. 

"  Tarara-boom-deay.  .  .  ." 

KuLiGiN.  We  won't  reform  Ivan  Romanovitch  !  We 
won't  reform  him  ! 

Chebutikin.  If  only  I  was  apprenticed  to  you !  Then  I'd 
reform. 

Irina.  Feodor  has  shaved  his  moustache !  I  can't  bear 
to  look  at  him. 

KuLiGiN.  Well,  what  about  it  ? 

Chebutikin.  I  could  tell  you  what  your  face  looks  like 
now,  but  it  wouldn't  be  polite. 

KuLiGiN.  Well !  It's  the  custom,  it's  modus  vivendi. 
Our  Director  is  clean-shaven,  and  so  I  too,  when  I  received 
my  inspectorship,  had  my  moustaches  removed.  Nobody 
likes  it,  but  it's  all  one  to  me.  I'm  satisfied.  Whether  I've 
got  moustaches  or  not,  I'm  satisfied.  .  .  •  [Sits. 

к 


194         THE    ТИП  ЕЕ    SISTERS    лет  iv 

At  tJte  back  of  the  stage  Andre  y  is  wheeling  a  perambu- 
lator containing  a  sleeping  infant. 

Irina.  Ivan  Romanovitch,  be  a  darling.  I'm  awfullf 
worried.  You  were  out  on  the  boulevard  last  night ;  tcl' 
mc,  what  happened  ? 

Chebutikin.  What  happened  ?  Nothing.  Quite  a  tri- 
fling matter.  [Reads  paper^  Of  no  importance  ! 

KuLiGiN.  They  say  that  Soleni  and  the  Baron  met  yester- 
day on  the  boulevard  near  the  theatre.  .  .  . 

TuzENBACH.  Stop  !     What  right  .  .  . 

[TFaves  his  hand  and  goes  into  the  house. 

KuLiGiN.  Near  the  theatre  .  .  .  Soleni  started  behaving 
offensively  to  the  Baron,  who  lost  his  temper  and  said  some- 
thing nasty.  .  .  . 

Chebutikin.  I  don't  know.    It's  all  bunkum. 

KuLiGiN.  At  some  seminary  or  other  a  master  wrote 
"  bunkum  "  on  an  essay,  and  the  student  couldn't  make  the 
letters  out — thought  it  was  a  Latin  word  "  luckum." 
{Laughs']  Awfully  funny,  that.  They  say  that  Soleni  is  in 
love  with  Irina  and  hates  the  Baron.  .  .  .  That's  quite 
natural.  Irina  is  a  very  nice  girl.  She's  even  like  Masha, 
she's  so  thoughtful.  .  .  .  Only,  Irina,  your  character  is 
gentler.  Though  Masha's  character,  too,  is  a  very  good 
one.     I'm  very  fond  of  Masha. 

[Shouts  of  "  Yo-ho  !  "  are  heard  behind  the  stage. 

Irina.  [Shudders']  Everything  seems  to  frighten  me  to- 
day. [Pause]  I've  got  everything  ready,  and  I  send  my 
things  ofi  after  dinner.  The  Baron  and  I  will  be  married 
to-morrow,  and  to-morrow  we  go  away  to  the  brickworks, 
and  the  next  day  I  go  to  the  school,  and  the  new  life  begins. 
God  will  help  me  !  When  I  took  my  examination  for  the 
teacher's  post,  I  actually  wept  for  joy  and  gratitude.  .  .  . 
[Fause]  Thecart  will  be  here  in  a  minute  for  my  things.  .  .  . 


ACT  IV    THE    THREE    SISTERS         195 

KuLiGiN.  Somehow  or  other,  all  this  doesn't  seem  at  all 
serious.  As  if  it  was  all  ideas,  and  nothing  really  serious. 
Still,  with  all  ray  soul  I  wish  you  happiness. 

Chebutikin.  [With  deep  feeling]  My  splendid  .  .  .  my 
dear,  precious  girl.  .  .  .  You've  gone  on  far  ahead,  I  won't 
catch  up  with  you.  I'm  left  behind  lilce  a  migrant  bird 
grown  old,  and  unable  to  fly.  Fly,  my  dear,  fly,  and  God  be 
with  you  !  [Pause]  It's  a  pity  you  shaved  your  moustaches, 
Feodor  Ilitch. 

KuLiGiN.  Oh,  drop  it !  [Sighs]  To-day  the  soldiers  will 
be  gone,  and  everything  will  go  on  as  in  the  old  days.  Say 
what  you  will,  Masha  is  a  good,  honest  woman.  I  love  her 
very  much,  and  thank  my  fate  for  her.  People  have  such 
difierent  fates.  There's  a  Kosirev  who  works  in  the  excise 
department  here.  He  was  at  school  with  me ;  he  was 
expelled  from  the  fifth  class  of  the  High  School  for  being 
entirely  unable  to  understand  ut  consecutivum.  He's  aw- 
fully hard  up  now  and  in  very  poor  health,  and  when  I  meet 
him  I  say  to  him,  "  How  do  you  do,  ut  consecutivum." 
"  Yes,"  he  says, "  precisely  cowsecMfwum  .  .  ."  and  coughs. 
But  I've  been  successful  all  my  life,  I'm  happy,  and  I  even 
have  a  Stanislaus  Cross,  of  the  second  class,  and  now  I 
myself  teach  others  that  ut  consecutivum.  Of  course,  I'm  a 
clever  man,  much  cleverer  than  many,  but  happiness  doesn't 
only  lie  in  that.  .  .  . 

"  The  Maiden's  Prayer  "  is  being  flayed  on  the  piano 
in  the  house. 

Irina.  To-morrow  night  I  shan't  hear  that  "  Maiden's 
Prayer  "  any  more,  and  I  shan't  be  meeting  Protopopov. 
.  .  .  [Pause]  Protopopov  is  sitting  there  in  the  drawing- 
room  ;  and  he  came  to-day.  .  . 

KuL[QiN.  Hasn't  the  head-mistress  come  yet  ? 

Irina.  No.    She  has  been  sent  for.    If  you  only  know 


196         THE    THREE    SISTERS    лет  iv 

how  difficult  it  is  for  me  to  live  alone,  witliout  Olgu-  .  .  • 
She  lives  at  the  High  School ;  she,  a  head-mistress,  busy  all 
day  with  her  afiairs  and  I'm  alone,  bored,  with  nothing  t 
do,  and  hate  the  room  I  live  in.  .  .  .  I've  made  up  my 
mind  :  if  I  can't  live  in  Moscow,  then  it  must  come  to  this. 
It's  fate.  It  can't  be  helped.  It's  all  the  will  of  God,  that's 
'he  truth.  Nicolai  Lvovitch  made  me  a  proposal.  .  .  . 
Well  ?  I  thought  it  over  and  made  up  my  mind.  He's  a 
good  man  .  .  .  it's  quite  remarkable  how  good  he  is.  .  .  . 
And  suddenly  my  soul  put  out  wings,  I  became  happy,  and 
light-hearted,  and  once  again  the  desire  for  work,  work, 
came  over  me.  .  .  .  Only  something  happened  yesterday, 
some  secret  dread  has  been  hanging  over  me.  .  .  . 

Chebutikin.  Luckum.    Rubbish. 

Natasha.  [At  the  window]  The  head-mistress. 

KuLiQiN.  The  head-mistress  has  come.    Let's  go. 

[Exit  with  Irina  into  the  house. 

Chebutikin.  "  It  is  my  washing  day.  .  .  .  Tara-ra  .  .  . 
boom-deay." 

Masha  afproaches,  Andrey  is  wheeling  a  perambu- 
lator at  the  back. 

Masha.  Here  you  are,  sitting  here,  doing  nothing. 

Chebutikin.  What  then  ? 

Masha.  [Sits]  Nothing.  .  .  .  [Pause]  Did  you  love  my 
mother  ? 

Chebutikin.  Very  much. 

Masha.  And  did  she  love  you  ? 

Chebutikin.  [After  a  pause]  I  don't  remember  that. 

Masha.  Is  my  man  here  ?  When  our  cook  Martha  used 
to  ask  about  her  gendarme,  she  used  to  say  my  man.  Is 
he  here  ? 

Chebutikin.  Not  yet. 

Masha.  When  you  take  your  happiness  in  little  bits,  in 


ACT IV    THE    THREE    SISTERS         197 

snatches,  and  then  lose  it,  as  I  have  done,  you  gradually  get 
coarser,  more  bitter.  [Points  to  her  bosom]  I'm  boiling  in 
here,  .  .  .  [Looks  at  Andrey  with  the  jyerambulator]  There's 
our  brother  Andrey.  .  .  .  All  our  hopes  in  him  have  gone. 
There  was  once  a  great  bell,  a  thousand  persons  were  hoisting 
it,  much  money  and  labour  had  been  spent  on  it,  when  it 
suddenly  fell  and  was  broken.  Suddenly,  for  no  particular 
reason.  .  .  .  Andrey  is  like  that.  .  .  . 

Andrey.  When  are  they  going  to  stop  making  such  a 
noise  in  the  house  ?     It's  awful. 

Chebutikin.  They  won't  be  much  longer.  [Looks  at  his 
watch]  My  watch  is  very  old-fashioned,  it  strikes  the  hours. 
.  .  .  [Winds  the  watch  and  makes  it  strike]  The  first,  second, 
and  fifth  batteries  are  to  leave  at  one  o'clock  precisely. 
[Pause]  And  I  go  to-morrow. 

Andrey.  For  good  ? 

Chebutikin.  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  I'll  return  in  a  year. 
The  devil  only  knows  .  .  .  it's  all  one.  .  .  . 

[Somewhere  a  harp  and  violin  are  being  flayed. 

Andrey.  The  town  will  grow  empty.  It  will  be  as  if 
they  put  a  cover  over  it.  [Pause]  Something  happened 
yesterday  by  the  theatre.  The  whole  town  knows  of  it,  but 
I  don't. 

Chebutikin.  Nothing.  A  silly  little  affair.  Soleni 
started  irritating  the  Baron,  who  lost  his  temper  and  insulted 
him,  and  so  at  last  Soleni  had  to  challenge  him.  [Looks  at 
his  watch]  It's  about  time,  I  think.  ...  At  half-past 
twelve,  in  the  public  wood,  that  one  you  can  see  from  here 
across  the  river.  .  .  .  Piff-paff.  [Laughs]  Soleni  thinks 
he's  Lermontov,  and  even  writes  verses.  That's  all  very 
well,  but  this  is  his  third  duel. 

Masha.  Whose  ? 

Chebutikin.  Soleni's 


198         THE    THREE    SISTERS    лет  iv 

Masha.  And  the  Baron  ? 

Chebutikin.  What  about  the  Baron  ?  [Pause. 

Masha.  Everything's  all  muddled  up  in  ray  head.  .  .  . 
But  I  say  it  ought  not  to  be  allowed.  He  might  wound  the 
Baron  or  even  kill  him. 

Chebutikin.  The  Baron  is  a  good  man,  but  one  Baron 
more  or  less — what  difference  does  it  make  1  It's  all  the 
same !  [Beyond  the  garden  somebody  shouts  "  Co-ee !  Hallo! "] 
You  wait.  That's  Skvortsov  shouting  ;  one  of  the  seconds. 
He's  in  a  boat.  [Pause. 

Andre Y.  In  my  opinion  it's  simply  immoral  to  fight  in  a 
duel,  or  to  be  present,  even  in  the  quality  of  a  doctor. 

CnEP.uTiKiN.  It  only  seems  so.  .  .  .  We  don't  exist, 
there's  nothing  on  earth,  we  don't  really  live,  it  only  seems 
that  we  live.     Does  it  matter,  anyway  ! 

Masha.  You  talk  and  talk  the  whole  day  long.  .  .  . 
[Going]  You  live  in  a  climate  like  this,  where  it  might  snow 
any  moment,  and  there  you  talk.  .  .  .  [Stops']  I  won't  go 
into  the  house,  I  can't  go  there.  .  .  .  Tell  me  when  Ver- 
shinin  comes.  .  .  .  [Goes  along  the  avenue]  The  migrant 
birds  are  already  on  the  wing.  .  .  .  [Loohs  up]  Swans  or 
geese.  My  dear,  happy  things.  .  .  .  [Exit. 

Andrey.  Our  house  will  be  empty.  The  officers  will  go 
away,  you  are  going,  my  sister  is  getting  married,  and  I  alone 
will  remain  in  the  house. 

Chebutikin.  And  your  wife  ? 

Ferapont  enters  with  some  documents. 

Andrey.  A  wife's  a  wife.  She's  honest,  well-bred,  yes, 
and  kind,  but  with  all  that  there  is  still  something  about 
her  that  degenerates  her  into  a  petty,  blind,  even  in  some 
respects  misshapen  animal.  In  any  case,  she  isn't  a  man. 
I  tell  you  as  a  friend,  as  the  only  man  to  whom  I  can  by 
bare  my  soul.     I  love  Natasha,  it's  true,  but  sometimes  she 


ACT  IV    THE    THREE    SISTERS         199 

seems  extraordinarily  vulgar,  and  then  I  lose  myself 
and  can't  understand  why  I  love  her  so  much,  or,  at  any 
rate,  used  to  love  her.  .  .  . 

Chebutikin.  [Rises]  I'm  going  away  to-morrow,  old 
chap,  and  perhaps  we'll  never  meet  again,  so  here's  my 
advice.  Put  on  your  cap,  take  a  stick  in  your  hand,  go  .  .  . 
go  on  and  on,  without  looking  round.  And  the  farther 
you  go,  the  better. 

SoLENi  goes  across  the  bach  of  the  stage  with  two 
officers  ;  he  catches  sight  of  Chebutikin,  atid  turns 
to  him,  the  officers  go  on. 
SoLENi.  Doctor,  it's  time.    It's  half-past  twelve  already. 

[Shakes  hands  with  Andre y. 
Chebutikin.  Half  a  minute.     I'm  tired  of  the  lot  of  you. 
[To  Ajjdrey]  If  anybody  aslcs  for  me,  say  I'll  be  back  soon. 
.  .  .  [Sighs']  Oh,  oh,  oh  ! 

Soleni.  "  He  didn't  have  the  time  to  sigh.     The  bear  sat 
on  him  heavily."  [Goes  мр  to  him]  What  are  you  groaning 
about,  old  man  ? 
Chebutikin.  Stop  it ! 
Soleni.  How's  your  health  ? 
Chebutikin.  [Angry]  Mind  your  own  business. 
Soleni.  The  old  man  is  unnecessarily  excited.     I  won't 
go  far,  I'll  only  just  bring  him  down  like  a  snipe.  [Takes 
out  his  scent-bottle  and  scents  his  hands]  I've  poured  out  a 
whole  bottle  of  scent  to-day  and  they  still  smell  ...  of  a 
dead  body.  [Pause]  Yes.  .  .  .  You  remember  the  poem 
"  But  he,  the  rebel  seeks  the  storm, 
As  if  the  storm  will  bring  him  rest  .  .  ."  ? 
Chebutikin.  Yes. 

"  He  didn't  have  the  time  to  sigh, 
The  bear  sat  on  him  heavily." 

[Exit  with  Soleni. 


200         THE   THREE    SISTERS    лет  iv 

Shouts  are  heard.    Andrey  and  Ferai'Ont  come  in. 

Feuapont.  Documents  to  sign.  .  .  . 

Andrey.  [/гп7аЫ]  Go    away!     Leave    me!     Please! 
[Goes  away  with  the  perambulator. 

Ferapont.  That's  what  documents  are  for,  to  be  signed 

[Retires  to  back  of  stage. 
Enter  Irina,  with  Tuzknbach  in  a  straw  hat ;  Kuli- 
aiN  walks  across  the  stage,  shouting  "  Co-ee,  Masha, 
co-ee  !  " 

TuzENBACH.  He  seems  to  be  the  only  man  in  the  town 
who  is  glad  that  the  soldiers  are  going. 

Irina.  One  can  understand  that.  [Pause']  The  town  will 
be  empty. 

TuzENBACH.  My  dear,  I  shall  return  soon. 

Irina.  Where  are  you  going  ? 

TuzENBACH.  I  must  go  into  the  town  and  then  .  .  .  see 
the  others  ой. 

Irina.  It's  not  true  .  .  .  Nicolai,  why  are  you  so  absent- 
minded  to-cVay  ?  [Раизе]  What  took  place  by  the  theatre 
yesterday  ? 

TuzENBACjH.  [Making  a  movement  of  impatierice]  In  an 
hour's  time  I  shall  return  and  be  with  you  again.  [Kisses 
her  hands]  lily  darling  .  .  .  [Looking  her  closely  in  the  face] 
it's  five  years  now  since  I  fell  in  love  with  you,  and  still  I 
can't  get  used  to  it,  and  you  seem  to  me  to  grow  more  and 
more  beautiful.  What  lovely,  wonderful  hair  !  What  eyes ! 
I'm  going  to  take  you  away  to-morrow.  We  shall  work, 
we  shall  be  rich,  my  dreams  will  come  true.  You  will  be 
happy.  There's  only  one  thing,  one  thing  only  :  you  don't 
love  me  ! 

Irina.  It  isn't  in  my  power  !  I  shall  be  your  wife,  I  shall 
be  true  to  you,  and  obedient  to  you,  but  I  can't  love  you. 
What  can  I  do  !  [Cries]  I  have  never  been  in  love  in  my 


ACT  IV    THE    THREE    SISTERS         201 

life.  Oh,  I  used  to  think  so  much  of  love,  I  have  been 
thinking  about  it  for  so  long  by  day  and  by  night,  but  my 
soul  is  like  an  expensive  piano  which  is  locked  and  the  key 
lost.  [Pause]  You  seem  so  unhappy. 

TuzENBACH.  I  didn't  sleep  all  night.  There  is  nothing 
in  my  life  so  awful  as  to  be  able  to  frighten  me,  only  that  lost 
key  torments  my  soul  and  does  not  let  me  sleep.  Say 
something  to  me  [Pause]  say  something  to  me.  .  .  . 

Irina.  What  can  I  say,  what  ? 

TuzENBACH.  Anything, 

Irina.  Don't !   don't !  [Pause. 

TuzENBACH.  It  is  curious  how  silly  trivial  little  things, 
sometimes  for  no  apparent  reason,  become  significant.  At 
first  you  laugh  at  these  things,  you  think  they  are  of  no 
importance,  you  go  on  and  you  feel  that  you  haven't  got 
the  strength  to  stop  yourself.  Oh  don't  let's  talk  about  it ! 
I  am  happy.  It  is  as  if  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  see 
these  firs,  maples,  beeches,  and  they  all  look  at  me  in- 
quisitively and  wait.  What  beautiful  trees  and  how  beauti- 
ful, when  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  life  must  be  near  them  ! 

[A  shout  of  Co-ee !  in  the  distance]  It's  time  I  went 

There's  a  tree  which  has  dried  up  but  it  still  sways  in  the 
breeze  with  the  others.  And  so  it  seems  to  me  that  if  I  die,  I 
shall  still  take  part  in  life  in  one  way  or  another.  Good-bye, 
dear.  .  .  .  [Kisses  her  hands]  The  papers  which  you  gave 
me  are  on  my  table  under  the  calendar. 

Irina.  I  am  coming  with  you. 

TuzENBACH.  [Nervously]  No,  no  !  [lie  goes  quickly  and 
stops  in  the  avenue]  Irina  ! 

Irina.  What  is  it  ? 

TuzENBACH.  [Not  knowing  what  to  say]  I  haven't  had  any 
coffee  to-day.     Tell  them  to  make  me  some.  .  .  . 

[He  goes  out  quickly. 


202         THE    THREE    SISTERS    лет  iv 

IiUNA  stands  deep  in  thought.  Then  she  goes  to 
the  back  of  the  stage  and  sits  on  a  swing.  Andrey 
comes  in  with  the  perambulator  and  Ferapont  also 
appears. 

Ferapont.  Andrey  Sergeyevitch,  it  isn't  as  if  the  docu- 
ments were  mine,  they  are  the  government's.  I  didn't 
make  them. 

Andrey.  Oh,  what  has  become  of  my  past  and  where  is  it? 
I  used  to  be  young,  happy,  clever,  I  used  to  be  able  to  think 
and  frame  clever  ideas,  the  present  and  the  future  seemed  to 
me  full  of  hope.  Why  do  we,  almost  before  we  have  begun 
to  live,  become  dull,  grey,  uninteresting,  lazy,  apathetic, 
useless,  unhappy.  .  .  .  This  town  has  already  been  in 
existence  for  two  hundred  years  and  it  has  a  hundred 
thousand  inhabitants,  not  one  of  whom  is  in  any  way  difier- 
ent  from  the  others.  There  has  never  been,  now  or  at  any 
other  time,  a  single  leader  of  men,  a  single  scholar,  an  artist, 
a  man  of  even  the  slightest  eminence  who  might  arouse  envy 
or  a  passionate  desire  to  be  imitated.  They  only  eat,  drink, 
sleep,  and  then  they  die  .  .  .  more  people  are  born  and  also 
eat,  drink,  sleep,  and  so  as  not  to  go  silly  from  boredom, 
they  try  to  make  life  many-sided  with  their  beastly  back- 
biting, vodka,  cards,  and  litigation.  The  wives  deceive 
their  husbands,  and  the  husbands  lie,  and  pretend  they  see 
nothing  and  hear  nothing,  and  the  evil  influence  irresistibly 
oppresses  the  children  and  the  divine  spark  in  them  is  ex- 
tinguished, and  they  become  just  as  pitiful  corpses  and  just 
as  much  like  one  another  as  their  fathers  and  mothers.  .  .  . 
[Angrily  to  Ferapont]  What  do  you  want  ? 

Ferapont.  What  ?     Documents  want  signing. 

Andrey.  I'm  tired  of  you. 

Ferapont.  [Handing  him  papers]  The  hall-porter  from 
the  law  courts  was  saying  just  now  that  in  the  winter 


ACT IV    THE   THREE    SISTERS        203 

there    were    two  hundred    degrees    of   frost   in   Peters- 
burg. 

Andrey.  The  present  is  beastly,  but  when  I  think  of  the 
future,  how  good  it  is  !  I  feel  so  light,  so  free  ;  there  is  a 
light  in  the  distance,  I  see  freedom.  I  see  myself  and  my 
children  freeing  ourselves  from  vanities,  from  kvass,  from 
goose  baked  with  cabbage,  from  after-dinner  naps,  from 
base  idleness.  .  .  . 

Ferapont.  He  was  saying  that  two  thousand  people  were 
frozen  to  death.  The  people  were  frightened,  he  said.  In 
Petersburg  or  Moscow,  I  don't  remember  which. 

Andrey.  [Overcome  by  a  tender  emotion]  My  dear  sisters, 
my  beautiful  sisters  !  [Crying]  Masha,  my  sister.  .  .  . 

Natasha.  [At  the  window]  Who's  talking  so  loudly  out 
here  ?  Is  that  you,  Andrey  ?  You'll  wake  little  Sophie. 
II  nefaut  pas /aire  du  bruit,  la  Sophie  est  dormie  deja.  Vous 
ites  un  ours.  [Angrily]  If  you  want  to  talk,  then  give  the 
perambulator  and  the  baby  to  somebody  else.  Ferapont, 
take  the  perambulator  ! 

Ferapont.  Yes'm.  [Takes  the  perambulator. 

Andrey.  [Confused]  I'm  speaking  quietly. 

Natasha.  [At  the  window,  nursing  her  boy]  Bobby ! 
Naughty  Bobby  !     Bad  little  Bobby  1 

Andrey.  [Looking  through  the  papers]  All  right,  I'll  look 
them  over  and  sign  if  necessary,  and  you  can  take  them 
back  to  the  offices.  .  .  . 

Goes  into  house  reading  papers  ;  Ferapont  takes  the 
perambulator  to  the  back  of  the  garden. 

Natasha.  [At  the  window]  Bobby,  what's  your  mother's 
name  ?  Dear,  dear !  And  who's  this  ?  That's  Aunt 
Olga.    Say  to  your  aunt,  "  How  do  you  do,  Olga  !  " 

Two  wandering  musiciajis,  a  man  and  a  girl,  are  play- 
ing on  a  violin  and  a  harp.  Vershinin,  Olga,  and 


204         THE    THREE    SISTERS    activ 

AnTiSA  come  out  of  the  house  (Dtd  listen  for  a  minute 
in  silence  ;  Irina  comes  up  to  them. 

OiiGA.  Our  garden  might  be  a  public  thoroughfare,  from 
the  way  people  walk  and  ride  across  it.  Nurse,  give  those 
musicians  something  ! 

Anfisa.  [Gives  money  to  the  musicians]  Go  away  with 
God's  blessing  on  you.  [The  musicians  bow  and  go  aicay]  A 
bittr  sort  of  people.  You  don't  play  on  a  full  stomach. 
[To  Irina]  How  do  you  do,  Arisha  !  [Kisses  her]  Well,  little 
girl,  here  I  am,  still  alive  !  Still  alive  !  In  the  High  School, 
together  with  little  Olga,  in  her  official  apartments  ...  so 
the  Lord  has  appointed  for  my  old  age.  Sinful  woman  that 
I  am,  I've  never  lived  like  that  in  my  life  before.  ...  A 
large  flat,  government  property,  and  I've  a  whole  room 
and  bed  to  myself.  All  government  property.  I  wake  up 
at  nights  and,  oh  God,  and  Holy  Mother,  there  isn't  a  happier 
person  than  I ! 

VERSШ^ЧN.  [Looks  at  his  watch]  We  are  going  soon,  Olga 
Sergeyevna.  It's  time  for  me  to  go.  [Pause]  I  wish  you 
every.  .  .  every.  .  .  .  Where's  Maria  Sergeyevna  ? 

Irina.  She's  somewhere  in  the  garden.  I'll  go  and  look 
for  her. 

Vershinin.  If  you'll  be  so  kind.    I  haven't  time. 

Anfisa.  I'll  go  and  look,  too.  [Shouts]  Little  Masha,co-ee! 
[Goes  out  with  Irina  down  into  the  garden]  Co-ee,  co-ee  ! 

VERSmNiN.  Everything  comes  to  an  end.  And  so  wc, 
too,  must  part.  [Looks  at  his  ivatch]  The  town  gave  us  a  sort 
of  farewell  breakfast,  we  had  champagne  to  drink  and  the 
mayor  made  a  speech,  and  I  ate  and  listened,  but  my  soul 
was  here  all  the  time.  .  .  .  [Looks  round  the  garden]  I'm 
80  used  to  you  now. 

Olga.  Shall  we  ever  meet  again  ? 

Vershinin.  Probably  not.  [Pause]  My  wife  and  both  my 


ACT  IV    THE    THREE    SISTERS         205 

daughters  will  stay  here  another  two  months.     If  anything 
happens,  or  if  anything  has  to  be  done  ... 

Olga.  Yes,  yes,  of  course.  You  need  not  worry.  [Pause] 
To-morrow  there  won't  be  a  single  soldier  left  in  the  town, 
it  will  all  be  a  memory,  and,  of  course,  for  us  a  new  life  will 
begin.  .  .  .  [Pause]  None  of  our  plans  are  coming  right. 
I  didn't  want  to  be  a  head-mistress,  but  they  made  me  one, 
all  the  same.     It  means  there's  no  chance  of  Moscow.  .  .  . 

VERSfflNiN.  Well  .  .  .  thank  you  for  everything.  For- 
give me  if  I've  .  .  .  I've  said  such  an  awful  lot — forgive  me 
for  that  too,  don't  think  badly  of  me. 

Olga.  [Wipes  her  eyes]  Why  isn't  Masha  coming  .  .  . 

VERSmNiN.  What  else  can  I  say  in  parting  ?  Can  I 
philosophize  about  anything  ?  [Laughs]  Life  is  heavy.  To 
many  of  us  it  seems  dull  and  hopeless,  but  still,  it  must  be 
acknowledged  that  it  is  getting  lighter  and  clearer,  and  it 
seems  that  the  time  is  not  far  ofi  when  it  will  be  quite 
clear.  [Looks  at  his  waich]  It's  time  I  went !  Mankind  used 
to  be  absorbed  in  wars,  and  all  its  existence  was  filled  with 
campaigns,  attacks,  defeats,  now  we've  outlived  all  that, 
leaving  after  us  a  great  waste  place,  which  there  is  nothing 
to  fill  with  at  present ;  but  mankind  is  looking  for  some- 
thing, and  will  certainly  find  it.  Oh,  if  it  only  happened 
more  quickly.  [Pause]  If  only  education  could  be  added 
to  industry,  and  industry  to  education.  [Looks  at  his  watch] 
It's  time  I  went.  .  .  . 

Olga.  Here  she  comes. 
Enter  Masha. 

Vershinin.  I  came  to  say  good-bye 

Olga  steps  aside  a  little,  so  as  not  to  be  in  their  way. 

Masha.  [Looking  him  in  the  face]  Good-bye.  .  . 

[Prolonged  kiss. 

Olga.  Don't,  don't.  [Masha  is  crying  bitterly 


206         THE    THREE    SISTERS     act  iv 

Vershinin.  Write  to  mc.  .  .  .  Don't  forget !  Let  me 
go.  .  .  .  It's  time.  Тсяке  her,  Olga  Sergeyevna  .  .  .  it's 
time     .  .  I'm  late  .  .  . 

He  kisses  Olga's  hand  in  evident  emotion,  then  em- 
braces Masha  once  more  and  goes  out  quickly. 

Olga.  Don't,  Masha !    Stop,  dear.  .  .  .[Kvugik  enters. 

KuLiQiN.  [Confused]  Never  mind,  let  her  cry,  let  her.  .  .  . 
My  dear  Masha,  my  good  Masha.  .  .  .  You're  my  wife,  and 
I'm  happy,  whatever  happens  .  .  .  I'm  not  complaining, 
I  don't  reproach  you  at  all.  .  .  .  Olga  is  a  witness  to  it.  .  .  . 
Let's  begin  to  live  again  as  we  used  to,  and  not  by  a  single 
word,  or  hint  .  .  . 

ALi.SHA.  [Restraining  her  sobs] 

"  There  stands  a  green  oak  by  the  sea, 
And  a  chain  of  bright  gold  is  around  it.  .  .  . 
And  a  chain  of  bright  gold  is  around  it.  .  .  ." 

I'm  going  off  my  head.  .  .  "  There  stands  ...  a  green 
oak  ...  by  the  sea."  .  .  . 

Olga.  Don't,  Masha,  don't  .  .  .  give  her  some  water.  .  .  . 

Masha.  I'm  not  crying  any  more. 

KuLiGiN.  She's  not  crying  any  more  .  .  .  she's  a 
good  .  .  . 

[A  shot  is  heard  from  a  distance 

Masha.  "  There  stands  a  green  oak  by  the  sea, 

And  a  chain  of  bright  gold  is  around  it  .  . 
An  oak  of  green  gold.  ..." 

I'm  mixing  it  up.  .  .  .  [Drinks  some  water]  Life  is  dull  .  .  . 
I  don't  want  anything  more  now  .  .  .  I'll  be  all  right  in  a 
moment.  ...  It  doesn't  matter.  .  .  .  What  do  those  lines 
mean  ?  Why  do  they  run  in  my  head  ?  My  thoughts  are 
all  tangled. 


ACT  IV    THE    THREE    SISTERS         207 

Irina  enters. 

Olga.  Be  qiiiet,  Masha.  There's  a  good  girl.  .  .  .  Let's 
go  in. 

Masha.  [Angrily]  I  shan't  go  in  there.  [Sobs ,  hut  controls 
herself  at  once]  I'm  not  going  to  go  into  the  house,  I  won't 
go.  .  .  . 

Irina.  Let's  sit  here  together  and  say  nothing.  I'm  going 
away  to-morrow.  .  .  .  [Pause. 

KuLiGiN.  Yesterday  I  took  away  these  whiskers  and  this 
beard  from  a  boy  in  the  third  class.  .  .  .  [He  puts  on  the 
whiskers  and  beard]  Don't  I  look  like  the  German  master. 
.  .  .  [Lau^s]  Don't  I  ?     The  boys  are  amusing. 

ULiSHA.  You  really  do  look  like  that  German  of 
yours. 

Olga.  [Laughs]  Yes.  [Masha  weeps. 

Irina.  Don't,  Masha  ! 

KuLiGiN.  It's  a  very  good  likeness.  .  .  . 
Enter  Natasha. 

Natasha.  [To  the  maid]  What  ?  Mihail  Ivanitch 
Protopopov  will  sit  with  little  Sophie,  and  Audrey  Sergeye- 
vitch  can  take  little  Bobby  out.  Children  are  such  a  bother. 
.  .  .  [To  Irina]  Irina,  it's  such  a  pity  you're  going  away 
to-morrow.  Do  stop  just  another  week.  [Sees  Kuligin 
and  screams  ;  he  laughs  and  takes  off  his  beard  and  whiskers] 
How  you  frightened  me  !  [To  Irina]  I've  grown  used  to  you 
and  do  you  think  it  will  be  easy  for  me  to  part  from  you  ? 
I'm  going  to  have  Andrey  and  his  violin  put  into  your  room 
— let  him  fiddle  away  in  there  ! — and  we'll  put  Uttle  Sophie 
into  his  room.  The  beautiful,  lovely  child  !  What  a  little 
girlie  !  To-day  she  looked  at  me  with  such  pretty  eyes  and 
said  "  Mamma  !  " 

Kuligin.  A  beautiful  child,  it's  quite  true. 

Natasha.  That  means  I  shall  have  the  place  to  myself 


208        THE    THREE    SISTERS      лет  iv 

to-morrow.  [Siyhs]  In  the  first  place  I  sliall  have  that 
avenue  of  fir-trees  cut  down,  then  that  maple.  It's  so  ugly 
at  nights.  .  .  .  [To  Trtna]  That  bolt  doesn't  suit  you  at 
all,  dear.  .  .  .  It's  an  error  of  taste.  And  I'll  give  orders 
to  have  lots  and  lots  of  little  flowers  planted  here,  and 
they'll  smell.  .  .  .  [Severely]  Why  is  there  a  fork  lying 
about  here  on  the  seat  ?  [Going  towards  the  house,  to  the 
maid]  Why  is  there  a  fork  lying  about  here  on  the  seat,  I 
say  ?  [Shouts]  Don't  you  dare  to  answer  me  ! 

KuLiQiN.  Temper  !  temper  ! 

[A  march  is  flayed  off ;  they  all  listen. 

Olga.  They're  going. 

CnEBUTiKiN  comes  in. 

Masha.  They're  going.  Well,  well.  .  .  .  Bon  voyage! 
[To  her  husband]  We  must  be  going  home.  .  .  .  Where's 
my  coat  and  hat  ? 

KuLiGiN.  I  took  them  in  .  .  .  I'll  bring  them,  in  a 
moment. 

Olga.  Yes,  now  we  can  all  go  home.     It's  time. 

Chebutikin.  Olga  Sergeyevna  ! 

Olga.  What  is  it  ?  [Pause]  What  is  it  ? 

Chebutikin.  Nothing  ...  I  don't  know  how  to  tell 
you.  .  .  .  [Whis'pers  to  her. 

Olga.  [Frightened^  It  can't  be  true  ! 

Chebutikin.  Yes  .  .  .  such  a  story  .  .  .  I'm  tired  out, 
exhausted,  I  won't  say  any  more.  .  .  .  [Sadly]  Still,  it's 
all  the  same ! 

Masha.  What's  happened  1 

Olga.  [Embraces  Irina]  This  is  a  terrible  day  ...  I 
don't  know  how  to  tell  you,  dear.  .  .  . 

Irina.  What  is  it  ?  Tell  me  quickly,  what  is  it  ? 
For  God's  sake  !  [Cries. 

Chebutikin.  The  Baron  was  jdlled  in  the  duel  just  now. 


ACT  IV    THE    THREE    SISTERS         209 

Irina.  [Cries  softly']  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it.  .  .  . 

Chebutikin.  [Sits  on  a  bench  at  the  back  of  the  stage]  I'm 
tired.  .  .  .  [Takes  a  paper  from  his  pocket]  Let 'em  cry.  .  .  • 
[(Sing's  softly]  "Tarara-boom-deay,  it  ia  my  washing  day. . .  ." 
Isn't  it  all  the  same  ! 

The  three  sisters  are  standing,  pressing  against  one 
another. 

Masha.  Oh,  how  the  music  plays  !  They  are  leaving  us, 
one  has  quite  left  us,  quite  and  for  ever.  We  remain  alone, 
to  begin  our  life  over  again.  We  must  live  ...  we  must 
live.  .  .  . 

Irina.  [Puts  her  head  on  Olga's  bosom]  There  will  come 
a  time  when  everybody  will  know  why,  for  what  purpose, 
there  is  all  this  suffering,  and  there  will  be  no  more  mysteries. 
But  now  we  must  live  ...  we  must  work,  just  work  I 
To-morrow,  I'll  go  away  alone,  and  I'll  teach  and  give  my 
whole  life  to  those  who,  perhaps,  need  it.  It's  autumn  now, 
soon  it  will  be  winter,  the  snow  will  cover  everything,  and 
I  shall  be  working,  working.  .  .  . 

Olqa.  [Embraces  both  her  sisters]  The  bands  are  playing 
BO  gaily,  so  bravely,  and  one  does  so  want  to  live  !  Oh,  my 
God  1  Time  will  pass  on,  and  we  shall  depart  for  ever,  we 
shall  be  forgotten  ;  they  will  forget  our  faces,  voices,  and 
ел'^еп  how  many  there  were  of  us,  but  our  sufferings  will  turn 
into  joy  for  those  who  will  live  after  us,  happiness  and  peace 
will  reign  on  earth,  and  people  will  remember  with  kindly 
words,  and  bless  those  who  are  living  now.  Oh  dear  sisters, 
our  life  is  not  yet  at  an  end.  Let  us  live.  The  music  is  so 
gay,  so  joyful,  and,  it  seems  that  in  a  little  while  we  shall 
know  why  we  are  living,  why  we  are  suffering.  ...  If  we 
could  only  know,  if  we  could  only  know  ! 

The  music  has  been  growing  softer  and  softer ;  Kulicim, 
smiling  happily,  brings  out  the  hat  and  coat ; 


210         THE    THREE    S  I  S  T  E  R  S    act  iv 

Andrey  wheels  out  the  ferambulator  in  which  Bobby 
is  sitting. 
Chebutikin.  [Sings softly]  "Тага  .  .  .  ra-boom-deay.  .  .  . 
It  is  my  washing-day."  .  .  .  [Reads  a  paper]  It's  all  the 
same  !     It's  all  the  same  ! 

Oloa.  If  only  we  could  know,  if  only  we  could  know  ! 

Curtain. 


THE  CHERRY  ORCHARD 

A    COMEDY   IN    FOUR  ACTS 


CHARACTERS 

LuBOV  Andrkyevna  Ranevsky  (Mme.  Ranevsky),«  land- 
owner 
Anya,  her  daughter,  aged  seventeen 

Varya  (Barbara),  her  adopted  daughter,  aged  twenty-seven 
Leonid  Andreyevitch  Gaev,  Mme.  Ranevsky's  brother 
Ermolai  Alexeyevitch  Ьоракпш,  a  merchant 
Peter  Sergeyevitch  Trofimov,  a  student 
Boris  Borisovitch  Simeonov-Pischin,  a  landowner 
Charlotta  Ivanovna,  a  governess 
Simeon  Panteleyevitch  Epikhodov,  a  clerk 
DuNYASHA  (AvDOTYA  Fedorovna),  О  maidservant 
FiERS,  an  old  footman,  aged  eighty-seven 
Yasha,  a  young  footman 
A  Tramp 

A  Station-master 
Post-Office  Clerk 
Guests 
A  Servant 

fhe  action  takes  place  on  Mme.  Ranevsky's  estate 


THE  CHERRY   ORCHARD 


ACT   I 

Л  room  which  is  still  called  the  nursery.  One  of  the  doors 
leads  into  Anya's  room.  It  is  close  on  sunrise.  It  is 
May.  The  cherry-trees  are  in  flower  but  it  is  chilly  in 
the  garden.  There  is  an  early  frost.  The  windows  of 
the  room  are  shut.  Dunyasha  comes  in  with  a  candle, 
and  LoPAKmN  with  a  booh  in  his  hand. 

LoPAKmN.  The  train's  arrived,  thank  God.  What's  the 
time  1 

DuNYASHA.  It  will  soon  be  two.  [^Blows  out  candle^  It  is 
light  already. 

LoPAKmN.  How  much  was  the  train  late  ?  Two  hours 
at  least.  \Yawns  and  stretches  himself]  I  have  made  a  rotten 
mess  of  it !  I  came  here  on  purpose  to  meet  them  at  the 
station,  and  then  overslept  myself  ...  in  my  chair.  It's 
a  pity.     I  wish  you'd  wakened  me. 

DuNYASHA.  I  thought  you'd  gone  away.  \_Listening]  I 
think  I  hear  them  coming. 

LoPAKHiN.  \_Listens]  No.  .  .  .  They've  got  to  collect 
their  luggage  and  so  on.  .  .  .  [Pausel  Lubov  Andreyevna 
has  been  living  abroad  for  five  years  ;  I  don't  know  what 
she'll  be  like  now.  .  .  .  She's  a  good  sort — an  easy,  simple 
person.  I  remember  when  I  was  a  boy  of  fifteen,  my 
father,  who  is  dead — he  used  to  keep  a  shop  in  the  village 

213 


214     ТИК    С  II  F:  И  R  Y    ORCHARD  лет  i 

here — hit  me  on  the  face  with  his  fist,  and  my  nose  bled. . . 
We  had  gone  into  the  yard  together  for  something  or  other, 
and  he  was  a  little  drunk.  Lubov  Andreyevna,  as  I  remember 
her  now,  was  still  young,  and  very  thin,  and  she  took  me 
to  the  washstand  here  in  this  very  room,  the  nursery.  She 
said,  "  Don't  cry,  little  man,  it'll  be  all  right  in  time  for 
your  wedding."  [Paiise]  "Little  man".  .  .  .  My  father  was 
a  peasant,  it's  true,  but  here  I  am  in  a  white  waistcoat  and 
yellow  shoes  ...  a  pearl  out  of  an  oyster.  I'm  rich  now, 
with  lots  of  money,  but  just  think  about  it  and  examine  me, 
and  you'll  find  I'm  still  a  peasant  down  to  the  marrow  of 
my  bones.  [Turns  over  the  pages  of  his  book]  Here  I've 
been  reading  this  book,  but  I  understood  nothing.  I  read 
and  fell  asleep.  [Pause. 

DuNYASHA.  The  dogs  didn't  sleep  all  night ;  they  know 
that  they're  coming. 

LoPAKHiN.  What's  up  with  you      Dunyasha  .  .  .  ? 

DuNYASHA.  My  hands  are  shaking.     I  shall  faint. 

LoPAKHiN.  You're  too  sensitive,  Dunyasha.  You  dress 
just  like  a  lady,  and  you  do  your  hair  like  one  too.  You 
oughtn't.    You  should  tnow  your  place. 

Epikhodov.  [Enters  with  a  bouquet.  He  wears  a  short 
jacket  and  brilliantly  polished  boots  which  squeak  audibly. 
He  drops  the  bouquet  as  he  enters,  then  picks  it  tip]  The 
gardener  sent  these ;  says  they're  to  go  into  the  dining- 
room.  [Gives  the  bouquet  to  Dunyasha. 

ЬоРАКШК.  And jyou'll  bring  me  some  kvass. 

Dunyasha.  Very  well.  [Exit. 

Epikhodov.  There's  a  frost  this  morning — three  degrees, 
and  the  cherry-trees  are  all  in  flower.  I  can't  approve  of 
our  climate.  [Sighs]  I  can't.  Our  climate  is  indisposed  to 
favour  us  even  this  once.  And,  Ermolai  Alexeyevitch,  allow 
me  to  say  to  you,  in  addition,  that  I  bought  myself  some 


ACT  I    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    215 

boots  two  days  ago,  and  I  beg  to  assure  you  that  they 
squeak  in  a  perfectly  unbearable  manner.  What  shall  I 
put  on  them  ? 

LoPAKHiN.  Go  away.    You  bore  me. 

Epikhodov.  Some  misfortune  happens  to  me  every  day. 
But  I  don't  complain ;  I'm  used  to  it,  and  I  can  smile. 
[DuNYASHA  comes  in  and  brings  Lopakhin  some  kvass]  I 
shall  go.  [KnocJcs  over  a  chair]  There.  .  .  .  [Trium'phantly] 
There,  you  see,  if  I  may  use  the  word,  what  circumstances 
I  am  in,  so  to  speak.  It  is  even  simply  marvellous. 

[Exit. 

DuNYASHA.  I  may  confess  to  you,  Ermolai  Alexeyevitch, 
that  Epikhodov  has  proposed  to  me. 

Lopakhin.  Ah ! 

DuNYASHA.  I  don't  know  what  to  do  about  it.  He's  a 
nice  young  man,  but  every  now  and  again,  when  he  begins 
talking,  you  can't  understand  a  word  he's  saying.  I  think 
I  like  him.  He's  madly  in  love  with  me.  He's  an  unlucky 
man ;  every  day  something  happens.  We  tease  him 
about  it.     They  call  him  "  Two-and-twenty  troubles." 

Lopakhin.  [Listens]  There  they  come,  I  think. 

DuNYASHA.  They're  coming  !  What's  the  matter  with 
me  ?     I'm  cold  all  over. 

Lopakhin.  There  they  are,  right  enough.  Let's  go  and 
meet  them.  Will  she  know  me  ?  We  haven't  seen  each 
other  for  five  years. 

DuNYASHA.  [Excited]  I  shall  faint  in  a  minute.  .  .  . 
Oh,  I'm  fainting  ! 

Two  carriages  are  heard  driving  up  to  the  house. 
Lopakhin  and  Dunyasha  quickly  go  out.  The 
stage  is  emply.  A  noise  begins  in  the  next  room. 
FiERS,  leaning  on  a  stick,  walks  quickly  across  the 
stage ;  he  has  just  been  to  meet  Lubov  Andre  yevna. 


216     THE    CHERRY    О  R  С  TI  Л  R  D   лет  i 

He  wears  an  old-fashioned  livery  and  a  tall  hat.  He 
is  sayiwj  something  to  himself,  but  not  a  word  of  it 
can  be  made  out.  The  noise  behind  the  stage  gels 
louder  and  louder.  A  voice  is  heard :  "  LeCs  go 
in  there."  Enter  Lubov  Andreyevna,  Anya,  and 
CuARLOTTA  IvANOVNA  with  a  little  dog  on  a  chain ^ 
and  all  dressed  in  travelling  clothes,  Varya  in  a 
long  coal  and  with  a  kerchief  on  her  head.    Gaev, 

SlMEONOV-PlSCHIN,    LOPAKHIN,    DUNYASnA    with 

a  parcel  and  an  umbrella,  and  a  servant  with  luggage 
— all  cross  the  room. 
Anya.  Let's  come   through   here.     Do   you   remember 
what  this  room  is,  mother  1 
Lubov.  {Joyfully,  through  her  tears']  The  nursery  ! 
Varya.  How  cold  it  is  !     My  hands  are  quite  numb. 
{To  Lubov  Andreyevna]  Your  rooms,  the  white  one  and 
the  violet  one,  are  just  as  they  used  to  be,  mother. 

Lubov.  My  dear  nursery,  oh,  you  beautiful  room.  .  .  . 
I  used  to  sleep  here  when  I  was  a  baby.  {Kisses  her  brother, 
Varya,  then  her  brother  адаьп]  And  Varya  is  just  as  she  used 
to  be,  just  like  a  nun.    And  I  knew  Dunyasha. 

{Kisses  her. 
Gaev.  The    train    was   two    hours   late.     There    now ; 
how's  that  for  punctuality  ? 
Charlotta.  {To  PiscmN]  My  dog  eats  nuts  too. 
PiscmN.  {Astonislicd]  To  think  of  fiat,  now  ! 

{All  go  out  except  Any'a  and  Dunyasha. 
Dunyasha.  We  did  have  to  wait  for  you  ! 

{Takes  off  Any'a's  cloak  and  hat. 
Anya.  ...  I  didn't  get  any  sleep  for  four  nights  on  the 
journey.  ...  I'm  awfully  cold. 

Dunyasha.  You  went  away  during  Lent,  when  it  was 
snowing    and    frosty,   but   now  ?     Darling !  {LaugliS   and 


ACT  I   THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    217 

Jdssesher]  Wedidhaveto  waitforyou,  my  joy,  my  pet.  .  .  . 
I  must  tell  you  at  once,  I  can't  bear  to  wait  a  minute. 

Anya.  [Tired]  Something  else  now  .  .  .  ? 

DuNYASHA.  The  clerk,  Epikhodov,  proposed  to  me  after 
Easter. 

Anya.  Always  the  same.  .  .  .  [Puts  her  hair  straight] 
I've  lost  all  my  hairpins,  .  .  . 

[She  is  very  tired,  and  even  staggers  as  she  walks. 

DuNYASHA.  I  don't  know  what  to  think  about  it.  He 
loves  me,  he  loves  me  so  much ! 

Anya.  [Loolcs  into  her  room ;  in  a  gentle  voice]  My  room, 
my  windows,  as  if  I'd  never  gone  away.  I'm  at  home  ! 
To-morrow  morning  I'll  get  up  and  have  a  run  in  the 
garden.  .  .  .  Oh,  if  I  could  only  get  to  sleep  !  I  didn't 
sleep  the  whole  journey,  I  was  so  bothered. 

DuNYASHA.  Peter  Sergeyevitch  came  two  days  ago. 

Anya.  [Joyfully]  Peter  ! 

DuNYASHA.  He  sleeps  in  the  bath-house,  he  lives  there. 
He  said  he  was  afraid  he'd  be  in  the  way.  [Looks  at  her 
pocket-watch]  I  ought  to  wake  him,  but  Barbara  ulihailovna 
told  me  not  to.    "  Don't  wake  him,"  she  said. 
E)iter  Varya,  a  hunch  of  keys  on  her  belt. 

Varya.  Dunyasha,  some  cofiee,  quick.  Mother  wants 
some. 

Dunyasha.  This  minute.  [Exit. 

Varya.  Well,  you've  come,  glory  be  to  God.  Home 
again.  [Caressing  her]  .My  darling  is  back  again  !  My 
pretty  one  is  back  again  ! 

Anya.  I  did  have  an  awful  time,  I  tell  you. 

Varya.  I  can  just  imagine  it ! 

Anya.  I  went  away  in  Holy  Week  ;  it  was  very  cold  then. 
Charlotta  talked  the  whole  way  and  would  go  on  performing 
her  tricks.    Why  did  you  tie  Charlotta  on  to  me  ? 


218    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD   act  i 

Varya.  You  couldn't  go  alone,  darling,  at  seventeen  ! 

Anya.  We  went  to  Paris  ;  it's  cold  there  and  snowing. 
I  talk  French  perfectly  horribly.  My  mother  lives  on  the 
fifth  floor.  I  go  to  her,  and  find  her  there  with  various 
Frenchmen,  women,  an  old  abbe  with  a  book,  and  every- 
thing in  tobacco  smoke  and  with  no  comfort  at  all.  I 
suddenly  became  very  sorry  for  mother — so  sorry  that  I 
took  her  head  in  my  arms  and  hugged  her  and  wouldn't 
let  her  go.     Then  mother  started  hugging  me  and  crying. . . . 

Varya.  [Weeping]  Don't  say  any  more,  don't  say  any 
more.  .  .  . 

Anya.  She's  already  sold  her  villa  near  Mentone  ;  she's 
nothing  left,  nothing.  And  I  haven't  a  copeck  left  either ; 
we  only  just  managed  to  get  here.  And  mother  won't 
understand  !  We  had  dinner  at  a  station  ;  she  asked  for 
all  the  expensive  things,  and  tipped  the  waiters  one  rouble 
each.  And  Charlotta  too.  Yasha  wants  his  share  too — 
it's  too  bad.  Mother's  got  a  footman  now,  Yasha  ;  we've 
brought  him  here. 

Varya.  I  saw  the  wretch. 

Anya.  How's  business  ?     Has  the  interest  been  paid  ? 

Varya.  Not  much  chance  of  that. 

Any'A.  Oh  God,  oh  God  .  .  . 

Varya.  The  place  will  be  sold  in  August. 

Anya.  0  God.  .  .  . 

LoPAKHiN.  [Looks  in  at  the  door  and  moos]  Moo  !  .  . 

[Exit. 

Varya.  [Through  her  tears]  I'd  like  to.  .  .  . 

[Shalrs  her  f  St. 

Anya.  [Embraces  Varya,  softly]  Varya,  has  he  proposed 
to  you  1  [Varya  shakes  her  head]  But  he  loves  you.  .  .  . 
Why  don't  you  make  up  your  minds  1  Why  do  you  keep 
on  waiting  ? 


ACT  I  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    219 

Varya.  I  think  that  it  will  all  come  to  nothing.  He's 
a  busy  man.  I'm  not  his  afiair  ...  he  pays  no  attention 
to  me.  Bless  the  man,  I  don't  want  to  see  him.  .  .  .  But 
everybody  talks  about  our  marriage,  everybody  congratu- 
lates me,  and  there's  nothing  in  it  at  all,  it's  all  like  a  dream. 
[In  another  tone]  You've  got  a  brooch  like  a  bee. 

Anya.  [Sadly]  Mother  bought  it.  [Goes  into  her  room, 
and  talks  lightly,  like  a  child]  In  Paris  I  went  up  in  a  balloon  ! 

Varya.  My  darling's  come  back,  my  pretty  one's  come 
back !  [Dunyasha  has  already  returned  with  the  coffee-pot 
and  is  making  the  coffee]  I  go  about  all  day,  looking  after 
the  house,  and  I  think  all  the  time,  if  only  you  could  marry 
a  rich  man,  then  I'd  be  happy  and  would  go  away  some- 
where by  myself,  then  to  Kiev  ...  to  Moscow,  and  so 
on,  from  one  holy  place  to  another.  I'd  tramp  and  tramp. 
That  would  be  splendid  ! 

Anya.  The  birds  are  singing  in  the  garden.  What  time 
is  it  now  ? 

Varya.  It  must  be  getting  on  for  three.  Time  you  went 
to  sleep,  darling.  [Goes  into  Anya's  room]  Splendid  ! 

[Enter  Yasha  with  a  flaid  shawl  and  a  travelling  bag. 

Yasha.  [Crossing  the  stage  :  Politely]  May  I  go  this  way  ? 

Dun  YASHA.  I  hardly  knew  you,  Yasha.  You  have 
changed  abroad. 

Yasha.  Hm  .  .  .  and  who  are  you  ? 

DuNYASHA.  When  you  went  away  I  was  only  so  high. 
[Showing  with  her  hand]  I'm  Dunyasha,  the  daughter  of 
Theodore  Kozoyedov.    You  don't  remember  ! 

Yasha.  Oh,  you  little  cucumber  ! 

Looks  round  and  embraces  her.    She  screams  and  drops 
a  saucer.    Yasha  goes  out  quickly. 

Varya.  [In  the  doorway :  In  an  angry  voice]  What's 
that? 


220    Т  И  Е    С  II  Е  К  R  Y    О  R  С  И  Л  R  П   лет 

DuNYASiiA.  [ThrojKjh  her  tears}  i've  broken  a  saucer. 
Vary  A.  It  may  bring  luck. 

Anya.  [Coming  out  of  her  room]  We  must  tell  mother 
that  Peter's  here. 
Vauya.  I  told  them  not  to  wake  him. 
Anya.  [Thoughtfully]  Father  died  six  years  ago,  and  a 
mouth  later  my  brother  Grisha  was  drowned  in  the  river — 
such  a  dear  little  boy  of  seven  !     Mother  couldn't  bear  it ; 
she    went    away,    away,    without    looking    round.  .  ,  . 
[Shudders]  How    I    understand   her  ;    if  only  she  knew  ! 
And  Peter  Trofimov  was  Grisha's   tutor,   he   might   tell 
her.  .  .  . 

Enter  FiERS  in  a  short  jacket  and  ivhite  waistcoat. 
FiERS.  [Goes  to  the  coffee-pot,  nervously]  The   mistress 
is  going  to  have  some  food  here.  .  .  .  [Puts  on  while  gloves] 
Is    the    сойее    ready  ?  [To    Dunyasha,    severely]  You ! 
Where's  the  cream  ? 
Dunyasha.  Oh,  dear  me  ... !  [Rapid  exit. 

FiERS.  [Fussing  round  the  coffee-pot]  Oh,  you  bungler. . . . 
[Murmurs  to  himself]  Back  from  Paris  .  .  .  the  master 
went  to  Paris  once  ...  in  a  carriage.  .  .  .  [Laughs. 

Varya.  What  are  you  talking  about,  Fiers  ? 
FiERS.  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  [Joyfullij]  The  mistress  is 
home  again.     I've  lived  to  see  her  !     Don't  care  if  I  die 
now.  .  •  .  [Weeps  with  joy. 

Enter  LuBOV  Andreyevna,  Gaev,  Ъоракшк,  and 
SiMEONOV-PiscHiN,   the   latter   in    a    long  jacket 
of  thin  cloth  and  loose  trousers.    Gaev,  coming  in, 
moves  his  arms  and  body  about  as  if  he  is  playing 
billiards. 
LuBov.  Let  me  remember  now.    Red  into  the  corner ! 
Twice  into  the  centre  ! 
Gaev.  Eight  into  the  pocket !     Once  upon  a  time  you 


ACT  I   THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    221 

and  I  used  both  to  sleep  in  this  room,  and  now  I'm  fifty- 
one  ;  it  does  seem  strange. 

LoPAKHiN.  Yes,  time  does  go. 

Gaev.  Who  does  ? 

LoPAKHiN.  I  said  that  time  does  go. 

Gaev.  It  smells  of  patchouli  here. 

Anya.  I'm  going  to  bed.     Good-night,  mother. 

[Kisses  her. 

LuBOv.  My  lovely  little  one.  [Kisses  her  hand]  Glad  to 
be  at  home  ?     I  can't  get  over  it. 

Anya.  Good-night,  uncle. 

Gaev.  [Kisses  her  face  and  hands]  God  be  with  you. 
How  you  do  resemble  your  mother!  [To  his  sister]  You 
were  just  like  her  at  her  age,  Luba. 

Anya  gives  her  hand  to  Lopakhin  and  Pischin  and 
goes  out,  shutting  the  door  behind  her, 

LuBOV.  She's  awfully  tired. 

PiscfflN.  It's  a  very  long  journey. 

Varya.  [To  Lopakhin  and  PiscfflN]  Well,  sirs,  it's 
getting  on  for  three,  quite  time  you  went. 

LuBOV.  [Laughs]  You're  just  the  same  as  ever,  Varya. 
[Draws  her  close  and  hisses  her]  I'll  have  some  cofiee  now, 
then  we'll  all  go.  [Fiers  lays  a  cushion  under  her  feet]  Thank 
you,  dear.  I'm  used  to  сойее.  I  drink  it  day  and  night. 
Thank  you,  dear  old  man.  [Kisses  Fiers. 

Varya.  I'll  go  and  see  if  they've  brought  in  all  the 
luggage.  [Exit. 

LuBOV.  Is  it  really  I  who  am  sitting  here  ?  [Laughs]  I 
want  to  jump  about  and  wave  my  arms.  [Covers  her  face 
with  her  hands]  But  suppose  I'm  dreaming  !  God  knows 
I  love  my  own  country,  I  love  it  deeply  ;  I  couldn't  look 
out  of  the  railway  carriage,  I  cried  so  much.  [Through  her 
tears]  Still,  I  must  have  my  coffee.     Th.ink  you,  Fiers. 


222    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    лет  i 

Thank    you,    dear    old   man.     I'm   so   glad    you're    still 
with  us. 

FiERS.  The  day  before  yesterday. 

Gaev.  He  doesn't  hear  well. 

LoPAKHiN.  I've  got  to  go  off  to  Kharkov  by  the  five 
o'clock  train.  I'm  awfully  sorry  1  I  should  like  to  have 
a  look  at  you,  to  gossip  a  little.  You're  as  fine-looking 
as  ever. 

PiscHiN.  [Breathes  heavily]  Even  finer-looking  .  .  . 
dressed  in  Paris  fashions  .  .  .  confound  it  all. 

LoPAKHiN.  Your  brother,  Leonid  Andreyevitch,  says  I'm 
a  snob,  a  usurer,  but  that  is  absolutely  nothing  to  me.  Let 
him  talk.  Only  I  do  wish  you  would  believe  in  me  as 
you  once  did,  that  your  wonderful,  touching  eyes  would 
look  at  me  as  they  did  before.  Merciful  God  1  My  father 
was  the  serf  of  your  grandfather  and  your  own  father,  but 
you — you  more  than  anybody  else — did  so  much  for  me 
once  upon  a  time  that  I've  forgotten  everything  and  love 
you  as  if  you  belonged  to  my  family  .  .  .  and  even  more. 

LuBOV.  I  can't  sit  still,  I'm  not  in  a  state  to  do  it. 
[Jumps  up  mid  walks  about  in  great  excitement]  I'll  never 
survive  this  happiness.  .  .  .  You  can  laugh  at  me  ;  I'm 
a  silly  woman.  .  .  .  My  dear  little  cupboard.  [Kisses 
cupboard]  My  little  table. 

Gaev.  Nurse  has  died  in  your  absence. 

LuBOV.  [Sits  and  drinks  coffee]  Yes,  bless  her  soul.  I 
heard  by  letter. 

Gaev.  And  Anastasius  has  died  too.  Peter  Kosoy  has 
left  me  and  now  lives  in  town  with  the  Commissioner  of 
Police. 

Takes  a  box  of  sugar-candy  out  of  his  pocket  and  sucks 
a  piece. 

PiscHiN.  My  daughter,  Dasheuka,  sends  her  love. 


ACTi  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD     223 

LoPAKHiN.  I  want  to  say  something  very  pleasant,  very 
delightful,  to  you.  [Looks  at  his  watch]  I'm  going  away  at 
once,  I  haven't  much  time  .  .  .  but  I'll  tell  you  all  about 
it  in  two  or  three  words.  As  you  already  know,  your 
cherry  orchard  is  to  be  sold  to  pay  your  debts,  and  the  sale 
is  fixed  for  August  22  ;  but  you  needn't  be  alarmed,  dear 
madam,  you  may  sleep  in  peace ;  there's  a  way  out. 
Here's  my  plan.  Please  attend  carefully  !  Your  estate 
is  only  thirteen  miles  from  the  town,  the  railway  runs  by, 
and  if  the  cherry  orchard  and  the  land  by  the  river  are 
broken  up  into  building  lots  and  are  then  leased  off  for 
villas  you'll  get  at  least  twenty-five  thousand  roubles  a 
year  profit  out  of  it. 

Gaev.  How  utterly  absurd  ! 

LuBOV.  I  don't  understand  you  at  all,  Ermolai  Alexeye- 
vitch. 

ЬоРАКшк.  You  will  get  twenty-five  roubles  a  year  for 
each  dessiatin  from  the  leaseholders  at  the  very  least, 
and  if  you  advertise  now  I'm  willing  to  bet  that  you  won't 
have  a  vacant  plot  left  by  the  autumn  ;  tbey'U  all  go.  In 
a  word,  you're  saved.  I  congratulate  you.  Only,  of 
course,  you'll  have  to  put  things  straight,  and  clean  up.  .  .  . 
For  instance,  you'll  have  to  pull  down  all  the  old  buildings, 
this  house,  which  isn't  any  use  to  anybody  now,  and  cut 
down  the  old  cherry  orchard.  .  . 

LuBOV.  Cut  it  down  ?  My  dear  man,  you  must  excuse 
me,  but  you  don't  understand  anything  at  all.  If  there's 
anything  interesting  or  remarkable  in  the  whole  province, 
it's  this  cherry  orchard  of  ours. 

LoPAKHiN.  The  only  remarkable  thing  about  the  orchard 
is  that  it's  very  large.  It  only  bears  fruit  every  other  year, 
and  even  then  you  don't  know  what  to  do  with  them  ; 
nobody  buys  any. 


224    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD  лет  i 

Gaev.  Tbis  orcliard  is  mentioned  in  the  "  Encyclopajdic 
Dictionary." 

LorAKHiN.  [Lonls  at  his  wafch]  If  we  can't  think  of 
anything  and  don't  make  up  our  minds  to  anything,  then 
on  August  22  both  the  cherry  orchard  and  the  whole  estate 
will  be  up  for  auction.  Make  up  your  mind !  I  swear 
tliere's  no  other  way  out,  I'll  swear  it  again. 

FiERS.  In  the  old  days,  forty  or  fifty  years  back,  they 
dried  the  cherries,  soaked  them  and  pickled  them,  and 
made  jam  of  them,  and  it  used  to  happen  that  .  .  . 

Gaev.  Be  quiet,  Fiers. 

FiERS.  And  then  we'd  send  the  dried  cherries  off  in 
carts  to  Moscow  and  Kharkov.  And  money  !  And  the 
dried  cherries  were  soft,  juicy,  sweet,  and  nicely  scented. . . . 
They  knew  the  way.  .  .  . 

LuBOV.  What  was  the  way  1 

Fiers.  They've  forgotten.     Nobody  remembers. 

PiscmN.  [To  LuBOV  Andreyevna]  What  about  Paris  ? 
Eh  ?     Did  you  eat  frogs  ? 

LuBOV.  I  ate  crocodiles. 

PiscHiN.  To  think  of  that,  now. 

LoPAKHiN.  Up  to  now  in  the  villages  there  were  only  the 
gentry  and  the  labourers,  and  now  the  people  who  live  in 
villas  have  arrived.  All  towns  now,  even  small  ones,  are 
surrounded  by  villas.  And  it's  safe  to  say  that  in  twenty 
years'  time  the  villa  resident  will  be  all  over  the  place. 
At  present  he  sits  on  his  balcony  and  drinks  tea,  but  it  may 
well  come  to  pass  that  he'll  begin  to  cultivate  his  patch 
of  land,  and  then  your  cherry  orchard  will  be  happy,  rich, 
splendid.  .  .  . 

Gaev.  [Angry]  What  rot ! 
Enter  Vary  A  and  Yasha. 

Varya.  There  are  two  telegrams  for  you,  little  mother. 


ACT  I    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    225 

[Picks  out  a  key  and  noisily  unlocks  an  antique  cujyboard] 
Here  they  are. 

LuBOV.  They're  from  Paris.  .  .  .  [Tears  them  up  without 
reading  them]  I've  done  with  Paris. 

Gaev.  And  do  you  know,  Luba,  how  old  this  case  is  ? 
A  week  ago  I  took  out  the  bottom  drawer  ;  I  looked  and 
saw  figures  burnt  out  in  it.  That  case  was  made  exactly 
a  hundred  years  ago.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  What  1 
We  could  celebrate  its  jubilee.  It  hasn't  a  soul  of  its  own, 
but  still,  say  what  you  will,  it's  a  fine  bookcase. 

PiscHiN.  [Astonished]  A  hundred  years.  .  .  .  Think  of 
that! 

Gaev.  Yes  .  .  .  it's  a  real  thing.  [Handling  it]  My 
dear  and  honoured  case  !  I  congratulate  you  on  your 
existence,  which  has  already  for  more  than  a  hundred  years 
been  directed  towards  the  bright  ideals  of  good  and  justice  ; 
your  silent  call  to  productive  labour  has  not  grown  less 
in  the  hundred  years  [Weeping]  during  which  you  have 
upheld  virtue  and  faith  in  a  better  future  to  the  generations 
of  our  race,  educating  us  up  to  ideals  of  goodness  and  to 
the  knowledge  of  a  common  consciousness.  [Pause. 

LoPAKHiN.  Yes. 

LuDOV.  You're  just  the  same  as  ever,  Leon. 

Gaev.  [A  little  confused]  Off  the  white  on  the  right,  into 
the  corner  pocket.     Red  ball  goes  into  the  middle  pocket ! 

LoPAKHiN.  [Looks  at  his  watch]  It's  time  I  went. 

Yasha.  [Giving  Lubov  Andreyevna  her  medicine]  Will 
you  take  your  pills  now  ? 

PisCHiN.  You  oughtn't  to  take  medicines,  dear  madam  ; 
they  do  you  neither  harm  nor  good.  .  .  .  Give  them  here, 
dear  madam.  [Takes  the  pills,  turns  them  out  into  the  palm 
of  his  hand,  blows  on  them,  puts  them  into  his  mouth,  and 
drinks  some  kvass]  There  1 


226    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    лет  i 

LuBOV.  [Fri(jhte7ied]  You're  off  your  Lead  ! 

PiscniN.  I've  taken  all  the  pills. 

LoPAKHiN.  Gormandizer  !  [All  laugh. 

FiKRS.  They  were  here  in  Easter  week  and  ate  half  a 
pailful  of  cucumbers.  .  .  .  [Mumbles. 

LuBOV.  What's  he  driving  at  ? 

Varya.  He's  been  mumbling  away  for  three  years.  We're 
used  to  that. 

Yasha.  Senile  decay. 

Charlotta  Ivanovna  crosses  the  stage,  dressed  in 
white :  she  is  very  thin  and  tightly  laced  ;  has  a 
lorgnette  at  her  waist. 

LoPAKmN.  Excuse  me,  Charlotta  Ivanovna,  I  haven't 
said  "  How  do  you  do  "  to  you  yet.     [Tries  to  kiss  her  hand. 

Charlotta.  [Takes  her  hand  away]  If  you  let  people 
kiss  your  hand,  then  they'll  want  your  elbow,  then  your 
shoulder,  and  then  .  .  . 

LoPAKHiN.  My  luck's  out  to-day  !  [All  laugh]  Show  us  a 
trick,  Charlotta  Ivanovna  ! 

LuBOV  Andreyevna.  Charlotta,  do  iis  a  trick. 

Charlotta.  It's  not  necessary.    I  want  to  go  to  bed. 

[Exit. 

LoPAKHiN.  We  shall  see  each  other  in  three  weeks. 
[Kisses  LuBOV  Andreyevna's  Itand]  Now,  good-bye.  It's 
time  to  go.  [To  Gaev]  See  you  again.  [Kisses  Pischin] 
Au  revoir.  [Gives  his  hand  to  Varya,  then  to  Fiers 
and!  to  Yasha]  I  don't  want  to  go  away.  [To  Lubov 
Andreyevna].  If  you  think  about  the  villas  and  make 
up  your  mind,  then  just  let  me  know,  and  I'll  raise 
a  loan  of  50,000  roubles  at  once.  Think  about  it 
seriously. 

Varya.  [Angrily]  Do  go,  now  ! 

LoPAKHiN.  I'm  going,  I'm  going.  .  •  '  [Exit- 


ACT  I   THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    227 

Gaev.  Snob.  Still,  I  beg  pardon.  .  .  .  Varya's  going 
to  marry  him,  he's  Varya's  young  man. 

Varya,  Don't  talk  too  much,  uncle. 

LuBOV.  Why  not,  Varya  ?  I  should  be  very  glad. 
He's  a  good  man. 

PiscmN.  To  speak  the  honest  truth  .  .  .  he's  a  worthy 
man.  .  .  .  And  my  Dashenka  .  .  .  also  says  that  .  .  . 
she  says  lots  of  things.  [Snores,  but  wakes  up  again  at  once'] 
But  still,  dear  madam,  if  you  could  lend  me  .  .  .  240 
roubles  ...  to  pay  the  interest  on  my  mortgage  to- 
morrow .  .  . 

Varya.  [Frightened']  We  haven't  got  it,  we  haven't  got 
it! 

LuBOV.  It's  quite  true.     I've  nothing  at  all. 

PiscHiN.  I'll  find  it  all  right.  [Laughs']  I  never  lose  hope. 
I  used  to  think, "  Everything's  lost  now.  I'm  a  dead  man," 
when,  lo  and  behold,  a  railway  was  built  over  my  land  .  .  . 
and  they  paid  me  for  it.  And  something  else  will  happen 
to-day  or  to-morrow.  Dashenka  may  win  20,000  roubles 
.  .  .  she's  got  a  ticket. 

LuBOV.  The  coffee's  all  gone,  we  can  go  to  bed. 

FiERS.  [Brushing  Gaev's  trousers;  in  an  insistent  tone] 
You've  put  on  the  wrong  trousers  again.  What  am  I  to 
do  with  you  1 

Varya.  [Quietly]  Anya's  asleep.  [Opens  window  quietly] 
The  sun  has  risen  already  ;  it  isn't  cold.  Look,  little 
mother  :  what  lovely  trees  !  And  the  air  !  The  starlings 
are  singing  ! 

Gaev.  [Opens  the  other  window]  The  whole  garden's 
white.  You  haven't  forgotten,  Luba  ?  There's  that  long 
avenue  going  straight,  straight,  like  a  stretched  strap  ;  it 
shines  on  moonlight  nights.  Do  you  remember  ?  You 
haven't  forgotten  ? 


228    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    лет  i 

Lunov,  [Looks  out  into  the  garden]  Oh,  my  childhood, 
days  of  my  innocence  1  In  this  nursery  I  used  to  sleep  ; 
I  used  to  look  out  from  here  into  the  orchard.  Happiness 
used  to  wake  with  me  every  morning,  and  then  it  was  just 
as  it  is  now  ;  nothing  has  changed.  [Laughs  from  joy]  It's 
all,  all  white  !  Oh,  my  orchard  !  After  the  dark  autumns 
and  the  cold  winters,  you're  young  again,  full  of  happiness, 
the  angels  of  heaven  haven't  left  you.  ...  If  only  I  could 
take  my  heavy  burden  o2  my  breast  and  shoulders,  if  I 
could  forget  my  past ! 

Gaev.  Yes,  and  they'll  sell  this  orchard  to  pay  off  debts. 
How  strange  it  seems  ! 

LuBOV.  Look,  there's  my  dead  mother  going  in  the 
orchard  .  .  .  dressed  in  white !  [Laughs  from  joy]  That's 
she. 

Gaev.  Where  ? 

Varya.  God  bless  you,  little  mother. 

LuBOV.  There's  nobody  there ;  I  thought  I  saw  some- 
body. On  the  right,  at  the  turning  by  the  summer-house, 
a  white  little  tree  bent  down,  looking  just  like  a  woman. 
[Enter  Trofimov  in  a  ivcrn  student  uniform  and  spectacles] 
What  a  marvellous  garden  !  White  masses  of  flowers,  the 
blue  sky.  .  .  . 

Trofimov.  Lubov  Andreyevna  1  [She  looks  round  at  him] 
I  only  want  to  show  myself,  and  I'll  go  away.  [Kisses  her 
hand  warmly]  I  was  told  to  wait  till  the  morning,  but  I 
didn't  have  the  patience. 

[Lubov  Andreyevna  looks  surprised. 

Varya.  [Crying]  It's  Peter  Trofimov. 

Trofimov.  Peter  Trofimov,  once  the  tutor  of  your 
Grisha.  .  .  .  Have  I  changed  so  much  ? 

Lubov  Andreyevna  embraces  him  and  cries  softly, 

Gaev.  [Confused]  That's  enough,  that's  enough,  Luba. 


ACT  I    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD   229 

Varya.  [H^eeps]  But  I  told  you,  Peter,  to  wait  till  to- 
morrow. 

LuBOV.  My  Grisha  .  .  .  my  boy  .  .  .  Grisha  ...  my 
son. 

Varya.  What  are  we  to  do,  little  mother  ?  It's  the 
will  of  God. 

Trofimov.  [Softly,  through  his  tears]  It's  all  right,  it's 
all  right. 

LuBOV.  [Still  weeping]  My  boy's  dead  ;  he  was  drowned. 
Why  1  W^hy,  my  friend  ?  [Softly]  Anya's  asleep  in  there. 
I  am  speaking  so  loudly,  making  such  a  noise.  .  .  .  Well, 
Peter  1  What's  made  you  look  so  bad  ?  Why  have  you 
grown  so  old  ? 

Trofimov.  In  the  train  an  old  woman  called  me  a  decayed 
gentleman. 

LuBOV.  You  were  quite  a  boy  then,  a  nice  little  student, 
and  now  your  hair  is  not  at  all  thick  and  you  wear  spec- 
tacles.   Are  you  really  still  a  student  ?  [Goes  to  the  door. 

Trofimov.  I  suppose  I  shall  always  be  a  student. 

LuBOV.  [Kisses  her  brother,  then  Varya]  Well,  let's  go  to 
bed.  .  .  .  And  you've  grown  older,  Leonid. 

PiscHiN.  [Follows  her]  Yes,  we've  got  to  go  to  bed.  .  .  . 
Oh,  my  gout !  I'll  stay  the  night  here.  If  only,  Lubov 
Andreyevna,  my  dear,  you  could  get  me  240  roubles  to- 
morrow morning 

Gaev.  Still  the  same  story. 

PiscHiN.  Two  hundred  and  forty  roubles  ...  to  pay 
the  interest  on  the  mortgage. 

LuBOV.  I  haven't  any  money,  dear  man. 

PiscHiN.  I'll  give  it  back  .  .  .  it's  a  small  sum.  .  .  . 

Lubov.  Well  then,  Leonid  will  give  it  to  you.  .  .  .  Let 
him  have  it,  Leonid. 

Gakv.  By  all  means  ;  hold  out  your  hand. 


230  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    act  i 

LuBOV.  Why  not  ?     He  wants  it ;   he'll  give  it  back. 
LuBOV  Andreyevna,  Trofimov,  Pischin,  and Fiers 
go  out.    Gaev,  Varya,  and  Yasha  remain. 

Gaev.  My  sister  hasn't  lost  the  habit  of  throwing  money 
about.  [To  Yasha]  Stand  off,  do  ;  you  smell  of  poultry. 

Yasha.  [Grins]  You  are  just  the  same  as  ever,  Leonid 
Audrey  evitch. 

Gaev.  Really  ?  [To  Varya]  What's  he  saying  ? 

Varya.  [To  Yasha]  Your  mother's  come  from  the 
village ;  she's  been  sitting  in  the  servants'  room  since 
yesterday,  and  wants  to  see  you.  .  .  . 

Yasha.  Bless  the  woman  ! 

Varya.  Shameless  man. 

Yasha.  A  lot  of  use  there  is  in  her  coming.  She  might 
have  come  to-morrow  just  as  well.  [Exit. 

Varya.  Mother  hasn't  altered  a  scrap,  she's  just  as  she 
always  was.  She'd  give  away  everything,  if  the  idea 
only  entered  her  head. 

Gaev.  Yes.  .  .  .  [Pause]  If  there's  any  illness  for  which 
people  offer  many  remedies,  you  may  be  sure  that  particular 
illness  is  incurable,  I  think.  I  work  my  brains  to  their 
hardest.  I've  several  remedies,  very  many,  and  that  really 
means  I've  none  at  all.  It  would  be  nice  to  inherit  a 
fortune  from  somebody,  it  would  be  nice  to  marry  our 
Anya  to  a  rich  man,  it  would  be  nice  to  go  to  Yaroslav  and 
try  my  luck  with  my  aunt  the  Countess.  My  aunt  is  very, 
very  rich. 

Varya.  [TFeeps]  If  only  God  helped  us. 

Gaev.  Don't  cry.  My  aunt's  very  rich,  but  she  doesn't 
like  us.  My  sister,  in  the  first  place,  married  an  advocate, 
not  a  noble.  .  •  .  [Anya  appears  in  the  doorway]  She  not 
only  married  a  man  who  was  not  a  noble,  but  she  behaved 
herself  in  a  way  which  cannot  be  described  as  proper. 


ACT  I    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD   231 

She's  nice  and  kind  and  charming,  and  I'm  very  fond  of 
her,  but  say  what  you  will  in  her  favour  and  you  still  have 
to  admit  that  she's  wicked  ;  you  can  feel  it  in  her  slightest 
movements. 

Varya.  [Whisper]  Anya's  in  the  doorway. 

Gaev.  Really  ?  [Pause]  It's    curious,    something's    got 
into  my  right  eye  ...  I  can't  see  properly  out  of  it.    And 
on  Thursday,  when  I  was  at  the  District  Court  .  .  . 
Enter  Any  A. 

Varya.  Why  aren't  you  in  bed,  Any  a  ? 

Anya.  Can't  sleep.     It's  no  good. 

Gaev.  My  darling  !  [Kisses  Anya's  face  and  Jiands]  My 
child.  .  .  .  [Crying]  You're  not  my  niece,  you're  my  angel, 
you're  my  all.  .  .  .  Believe  in  me,  believe.  .  . 

Anya.  I  do  believe  in  you,  uncle.  Everybody  loves  you 
and  respects  you  .  .  .  but,  uncle  dear,  you  ought  to  say 
nothing,  no  more  than  that.  What  were  you  saying  just 
now  about  my  mother,  your  own  sister  ?  Why  did  you 
say  those  things  ? 

Gaev.  Yes,  yes.  [Covers  his  face  with  her  hand]  Yes, 
really,  it  was  awful.  Save  me,  my  God  !  And  only  just 
now  I  made  a  speech  before  a  bookcase  .  .  .  it's  so  silly  ! 
And  only  when  I'd  finished  I  knew  how  silly  it  was. 

Varya.  Yes,  uncle  dear,  you  really  ought  to  say  less. 
Keep  quiet,  that's  all. 

Anya.  You'd  be  so  much  happier  in  yourself  if  you 
only  kept  quiet. 

Gaev.  All  right,  I'll  be  quiet.  [Kisses  their  hands]  I'll 
be  quiet.  But  let's  talk  business.  On  Thursday  I  was  in 
the  District  Court,  and  a  lot  of  us  met  there  together,  and 
we  began  to  talk  of  this,  that,  and  the  other,  and  now  I 
think  I  can  arrange  a  loan  to  pay  the  interest  into  the 
bank. 


232    THE    С  П  К  R  R  Y    ORCHARD   лет  i 

Varya.  If  only  God  would  help  us  ! 

Gaev.  I'll  go  on  Tuesday.  Г11  talk  to  you  about  it  again. 
[To  Varya]  Don't  howl.  [To  Anya]  Your  mother  will 
have  a  talk  to  Lopakhin  ;  he,  of  course,  won't  rcfuio  .  .  . 
And  when  you've  rested  you'll  go  to  Yaroslav  to  tlie 
Countess,  your  grandmother.  So  you  see,  we'll  have  three 
irons  in  the  fire,  and  we'll  be  safe.  We'll  pay  up  the 
interest.  I'm  certain.  [Puts  some  sugar-candy  into  his 
mouth]  I  swear  on  my  honour,  on  anything  you  will,  that 
the  estate  will  not  be  sold  !  [Excitedly]  I  swear  on  my 
happiness  !  Here's  my  hand.  You  may  call  me  a  dis- 
honourable wretch  if  I  let  it  go  to  auction  !  I  swear  by 
all  I  am  ! 

Anya.  [She  is  calm  again  and  hapjjy]  How  good  and 
clever  you  are,  uncle.  [Embraces  him]  I'm  happy  now ! 
I'm  hippy  !     All's  well ! 
Enter  FiERS. 

FiERS.  [Reproachfully]  Leonid  Andreyevitch,  don't  you 
fear  God  ?     When  are  you  going  to  bed  ? 

Gaev.  Soon,  soon.  You  go  away,  Fiers.  I'll  undress 
myself.  Well,  children,  bye-bye  .  .  . !  I'll  give  you  the 
details  to-morrow,  but  let's  go  to  bed  now.  [Kisses  Any'A 
and  Varya]  I'm  a  man  of  the  eighties.  .  .  .  People  don't 
praise  those  years  much,  but  I  can  still  say  that  I've 
suffered  for  my  beliefs.  The  peasants  don't  love  me  for 
notliing,  I  assure  you.  We've  got  to  learn  to  know  the 
peasants  !     We  ought  to  learn  how.  .  .  . 

Anya.  You're  doing  it  again,  uncle  ! 

Varya.  Be  quiet,  uncle  ! 

Fiers.  [Angrily]  Leonid  Andreyevitch  ! 

Gaev.  I'm  coming,  I'm  coming.  ...  Go  to  bed  now. 
Oft'  two  cushions  into  the  middle  !  I  turn  over  a  new 
leaf.  .  .  .  [Exit.    Fiers  goes  out  after  him. 


ACT  I  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    283 

A:n  YA.  I'm  quieter  now.  I  don't  want  to  go  to  Yaroslav, 
I  don't  like  grandmother  ;  but  I'm  calm  now,  thanks  to 
uncle.  [Sits  down. 

Varya.  It's  time  to  go  to  sleep.  I'll  go.  There's  been 
an  unpleasantness  here  while  you  were  away.  In  the  old 
servants'  part  of  the  house,  as  you  know,  only  the  old 
people  live — little  old  Efim  and  Polya  and  Evstigney,  and 
Karp  as  weU.  They  started  letting  some  tramps  or  other 
spend  the  night  there — I  said  nothing.  Then  I  heard  that 
they  were  saying  that  I  had  ordered  them  to  be  fed  on 
peas  and  nothing  else  ;  from  meanness,  you  see.  .  .  .  And 
it  was  all  Evstigney 's  doing.  .  .  .  Very  well,  I  thought, 
if  that's  what  the  matter  is,  just  you  wait.  So  I  call 
Evstigney.  .  .  .  [Yawns]  He  comes.  "What's  this,"  I 
say,  "  Evstigney,  you  old  fool.  .  .  .  [Looks  at  Anya] 
Anyadear!  [Pause]  She's  dropped  ofi.  .  .  .  [Ta^-es  Anya's 
arm]  Let's  go  to  bye-bye.  .  .  Come  along  !  .  .  .  [Leads 
her]  My  darling's  gone  to  sleep  !  Come  on.  .  .  .  [They 
go.  In  the  distance,  tlie  other  side  of  the  orchard,  a  shepherd 
plays  his  pipe.  Trofimov  crosses  the  stage  and  stops  on 
seeing  Varya  and  Anya]  Sh  !  She's  asleep,  asleep.  Come 
on,  dear. 

Anya.  [Quietly,   half-asleep]  I'm   so    tired  ...  all   the 
bells  .  .  .  uncle,  dear  !     Mother  and  uncle  ! 

Varya.  Come  on,  dear,  come  on  ! 

[They  go  into  Anya's  roow. 

Trofimov.  [Moved]  My  sun  !    My  spring  ! 

Curtain. 


ACT  II 

In  a  field.  An  old,  crooked  shrine,  which  has  been  long 
abandoned ;  near  it  a  well  and  large  stones,  which 
apparently  are  old  tombstones,  and  an  old  garden  seat. 
The  road  is  seen  to  Gaev's  estate.  On  one  side  rise  dark 
poplars,  behind  them  begins  the  cherry  orchard.  In  the 
dista7ice  is  a  row  of  telegraph  poles,  and  far,  far  away 
on  the  horizon  are  the  indistinct  signs  of  a  large  town, 
which  can  only  be  seen  on  the  finest  and  clearest  days. 
It  is  close  on  sunset.  Charlotta,  Yasha,  and  Dun- 
YASHA  are  sitting  on  the  seat ;  Epikhodov  stands  by  and 
plays  on  a  guitar ;  all  seem  thoughtful.  Charlotta 
wears  a  man^s  old  peaked  cap ;  she  has  unslung  a  rifle 
from  her  shoulders  and  is  putting  to  rights  the  buckle  on 
the  strap. 

Charlotta.  [Thoughtfully]  I  haven't  a  real  passport. 
I  don't  know  how  old  I  am,  and  I  think  I'm  young.  When 
I  was  a  little  girl  my  father  and  mother  used  to  go  round 
fairs  and  give  very  good  performances  and  I  used  to  do 
the  salto  mortale  and  various  little  things.  And  when  papa 
and  mamma  died  a  German  lady  took  me  to  her  and 
began  to  teach  me.  I  liked  it.  I  grew  up  and  became  a 
governess.  And  where  I  came  from  and  who  I  am,  I  don't 
know.  .  .  .  Who  my  parents  were — perhaps  they  weren't 
married — I  don't  know.  {Takes  a  cucumber  out  of  her  pocket 
and  eats']  I  don't  know  anything.  {Pause]  I  do  want  to 

234 


ACT  II     THE  CHERRY    ORCHARD     235 

talk,  but  I  haven't  anybody  to  talk  to  ...  I  haven't 
anybody  at  all. 

Epikhodov.  [Plays  on  the  guitar  and  sings] 

"  What  is  this  noisy  earth  to  me, 
What  matter  friends  and  foes  ?  " 
I  do  like  playing  on  the  mandoline ! 

DuNYASHA.  That's  a  guitar,  not  a  mandoline. 

[Looks  at  herself  in  a  little  mirror  and  powders  herself. 
Epikhodov.  For   the   enamoured   madman,    this   is    a 
mandoline.  [Si7igs] 

"  Oh  that  the  heart  was  warmed. 
By  all  the  flames  of  love  retiirned  !  " 

Yasha  sings  too. 

Charlotta.  These  people  sing  terribly,  .  .  .  Foo  !  Like 
jackals. 

DuNYASHA.  [To  Yasha]  Still,  it  must  be  nice  to  live 
abroad. 

Yasha.  Yes,  certainly.     I  cannot  difier  from  you  there. 

[  Yawns  and  lights  a  cigar. 

Epikhodov.  That  is  perfectly  natural.  Abroad  every- 
thing is  in  full  complexity. 

Yasha.  That  goes  without  saying. 

Epikhodov.  I'm  an  educated  man,  I  read  various 
remarkable  books,  but  I  cannot  understand  the  direction 
I  myself  want  to  go — whether  to  live  or  to  shoot  myself, 
as  it  were.  So,  in  case,  I  always  carry  a  revolver  about 
with  me.    Here  it  is.  [Shows  a'revolver. 

Charlotta.  I've  done.  Now  I'll  go.  [Slings  the  rife] 
You,  Epikhodov,  are  a  very  clever  man  and  very  terrible  ; 
women  must  be  madly  in  love  with  you.  Brrr  !  [Going] 
These  wise  ones  are  all  so  stupid.     I've  nobody  to  talk  to. 


236  Т  II  E    CHERRY    ORCHARD  лет  ii 

I'm  always  alono,  alone  ;    I've  nobody  at  all  .  .  .  and  I 
don't  know  who  I  am  or  why  I  live.  [Exit  slowly. 

Epikhodov.  Аз  a  matter  of  fact,  independently  of 
everything  else,  I  must  express  my  feeling,  among  other 
things,  that  fate  has  been  as  pitiless  in  her  dealings  with  me 
as  a  storm  is  to  a  small  ship.  Suppose,  let  us  grant,  I  am 
wrong  ;  then  why  did  I  wake  up  this  morning,  to  give  an 
example,  and  behold  an  enormous  spider  on  my  chest, 
like  that.  [Shows  with  both  hands]  And  if  I  do  drink  some 
kvass,  why  is  it  that  there  is  bound  to  be  something  of  the 
most  indelicate  nature  in  it,  such  as  a  beetle  ?  [Pause. 
Have  you  read  Buckle  ?  [Pause]  I  should  like  to  trouble 
you,  Avdotya  Fedorovna,  for  two  words. 

DuNYASiiA.  Say  on. 

Epikhodov.  I  should  prefer  to  be  alone  with  you.  [Sighs. 

DuNYASHA.  [Shy]  Very  well,  only  first  bring  mc  my 
little  cloak.  .  .  .  It's  by  the  cupboard.  It's  a  little  damp 
here. 

Epikhodov.  Very  well  .  .  .  I'll  bring  it.  .  .  .  Now  I 
know  what  to  do  with  my  revolver. 

[Takes  guitar  and  exit,  strumming. 

Yasha.  Two-and-twenty  troubles  !  A  silly  man,  between 
you  and  me  and  the  gatepost.  [Yawns. 

DuNYASHA.  I  hope  to  goodness  he  won't  shoot  himself. 
[Pause]  I'm  so  nervous,  I'm  worried.  I  went  into  service 
when  I  was  quite  a  little  girl,  and  now  I'm  not  used  to 
common  life,  and  my  hands  are  white,  white  as  a  lady's. 
I'm  so  tender  and  so  delicate  now,  respectable  and  afraid 
of  everything.  .  .  .  I'm  so  frightened.  And  I  don't  know 
what  will  happen  to  my  nerves  if  you  deceive  me,  Yasha. 

Yasha.  [Kisses  her]  Little  cucumber  !  Of  course,  every 
girl  must  respect  herself ;  there's  nothing  I  disUke  more 
than  a  badly  behaved  girl. 


ACT  II  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD  237 

DuNYASHA.  I'm  awfully  in  love  with  you ;  you're 
educated,  you  can  talk  about  everything.  [Pause. 

Yasha.  [Yawns]  Yes.  I  think  this  :  if  a  girl  loves 
anybody,  then  that  means  she's  immoral.  [Pause]  It's 
nice  to  smoke  a  cigar  out  in  the  open  air.  .  .  .  [Listens] 
Somebody's  coming.  It's  the  mistress,  and  people  with 
her.  [DuNYASHA  embraces  him  suddenly]  Go  to  the  house, 
as  if  you'd  been  bathing  in  the  river  ;  go  by  this  path,  or 
they'll  meet  you  and  will  think  I've  been  meeting  you. 
I  can't  stand  that  sort  of  thing. 

DujrYASHA.  [Coughs  quietly]  My  head's  aching  because 
of  your  cigar. 

Exit.    Yasha  remains,  sitting  by  the  shrine.    Enter 
LuBOv  Andreyevna,  Gaev,  and  Ьоракшн. 

LoPAKmN.  You  must  make  up  your  mind  definitely — 
there's  no  time  to  waste.  The  question  is  perfectly  plain. 
Are  you  willing  to  let  the  land  ior  villas  or  no  ?  Just  one 
word,  yes  or  no  ?     Just  one  word  ! 

LuBOV.  Who's  smoking  horrible  cigars  here  ?  [Sits. 

Gaev.  They  built  that  railway  ;  that's  made  this  place 
very  handy.  [Sits]  Went  to  town  and  had  lunch  .  .  .  red 
in  the  middle  !  I'd  like  to  go  in  now  and  have  just  one 
game. 

LuBOV.  You'll  have  time. 

LoPAKmN.  Just  one  word !  [Imfloringly]  Give  me  an 
answer  ! 

Gaev.  [Yawtis]  Really! 

LuBOV.  [Looks  in  her  purse]  I  had  a  lot  of  money  yester- 
day, but  there's  very  little  to  day.  My  poor  Varya  feeds 
everybody  on  milk  soup  to  save  money,  in  the  kitchen  the 
old  people  only  get  peas,  and  I  spend  recklessly.  [Drops 
the  purse,  scattering  gold  coins]  There,  they  are  all  over  the 
place. 


238  Т  Н  E    CHERRY    ORCHARD   лет  ii 

Yasha.  Permit  me  to  pi';k  them  up. 

[Collecls  the  coins, 

LuBOV.  Please  do,  Yasha.  And  why  did  I  go  and  have 
lunch  there  ?  .  .  .  A  horrid  restaurant  with  bandjand 
tablecloths  smelling  of  soap.  .  .  .  Why  do  you  drink  so 
much,  Leon  ?  Why  do  you  eat  so  much  ?  Why  do  you 
talk  so  much  1  You  talked  again  too  much  to-day  in  the 
restaurant,  and  it  wasn't  at  all  to  the  point — about  the 
seventies  and  about  decadents.  And  to  whom  ?  Talking 
to  the  waiters  about  decadents  ! 

LoPAKHiN.  Yea. 

Gaev.  [Waves  his  hand]  I  can't  be  cured,  that's  obvious. 
.  .  .  [Irritably  to  Yasha]  What's  the  matter  1  Why  do 
you  keep  twisting  about  in  front  of  me  ? 

Yasha.  [Laughs]  I  can't  listen  to  your  voice  without 
laughing. 

Gaev.  [To  his  sister]  Either  he  or  I  .  .  . 

LuBOV.  Go  away,  Yasha  ;    get  out  of  this.  .  .  . 

Yasha.  [Gives  purse  to  Lubov  Andreyevna]  I'll  go  at 
once.  [Hardly  able  to  keep  frotn  laughing]  This  minute.  .  .  . 

[Exit. 

LoPAKHiN.  That  rich  man  Deriganov  is  preparing  to 
buy  your  estate.     They  say  he'll  come  to  the  sale  himself. 

Lubov.  Where  did  you  hear  that  ? 

LoPAKHiN.  They  say  so  in  town. 

Gaev-  Out  Yaroslav  aunt  has  promised  to  send  some- 
thing, but  I  don't  know  when  or  how  much. 

LoPAKHiN.  How  much  will  she  send  ?  A  hundred 
thousand  roubles  ?     Or  two,  perhaps  ? 

Lubov.  I'd  be  glad  of  ten  or  fifteen  thousand. 

LoPAKHiN.  You  must  excuse  my  saying  so,  but  I've 
never  met  such  frivolous  people  as  you  before,  or  anybody 
80  unbusinesslike  and  peculiar.     Here  I  am  telling  you  in 


ACT  II  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD   239 

plain  language  that  your  estate  will  be  sold,  and  you  don't 
seem  to  understand. 

LuBOV.  What  are  we  to  do  ?     Tell  us,  what  ? 

LoPAKHiN.  I  tell  you  every  day.  I  say  the  same  thing 
every  day.  Both  the  cherryorchard  and  the  land  must  be 
leased  ofi  for  villas  and  at  once,  immediately — the  auction 
is  staring  you  in  the  face :  Understand  !  Once  you  do 
definitely  make  up  your  minds  to  the  villas,  then  you'll 
have  as  much  money  as  you  want  and  you'll  be  saved. 

LuBOV.  Villas  and  villa  residents — it's  so  vulgar,  excuse 
me. 

Gaev.  I  entirely  agree  with  you. 

LoPAKHiN.  I  must  cry  or  yell  or  faint.  I  can't !  You're 
too  much  for  me  !  [To  Gaev]  You  old  woman  ! 

Gaev.  Keally  ! 

LoPAKHiN.  Old  woman  !  [Going  out. 

LuBOV.  [Frightened]  No,  don't  go  away,  do  stop  ;  be 
a  dear.    Please.    Perhaps  we'll  find  some  way  out ! 

LopAKHiN.  What's  the  good  of  trying  to  think  ! 

LuBOV.  Please  don't  go  away.  It's  nicer  when  you're 
here.  .  .  .  [Pause]  I  keep  on  waiting  for  something  to 
happen,  as  if  the  house  is  going  to  collapse  over  our  heads. 

Gaev.  [Thinking    deeply]  Double    in    the    corner  .  . 
across  the  middle.  .  .  . 

LuBOV.  We  have  been  too  sinful.  .  .  . 

LoPAKHiN.  What  sins  have  you  committed  ? 

Gaev.  [Puts  candy  into  his  mouth]  They  say  that  I've 
^aten  all  my  substance  in  sugar-candies.  [Laughs. 

LuBOV.  Oh,  my  sins.  .  .  .  I've  always  scattered  money 
about  without  holding  myself  in,  like  a  madwoman,  and 
I  married  a  man  who  made  nothing  but  debts.  My  husband 
died  of  champagne — he  drank  terribly — and  to  my  mis- 
fortune,   I  fell  in  love  with    another  man  and  went  off 


240   THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD  act  ii 

with  him,  and  just  at  that  time — it  was  my  first  punishment, 
a  blow  that  hit  me  right  on  the  head — here,  in  the  river 
.  .  .  my  boy  was  drowned,  and  I  went  away,  quite  away, 
never  to  return,  never  to  sec  this  river  again.  ...  1  shut 
my  eyes  and  ran  without  thinking,  but  he  ran  after  me  .  .  . 
without  pity,  without  respect.  I  bought  a  villa  near 
Mentone  because  he  fell  ill  there,  and  for  three  days  I 
knew  no  rest  either  by  day  or  night ;  the  sick  man  wore 
me  out,  and  my  soul  dried  up.  And  last  year,  when  they 
had  sold  the  villa  to  pay  my  debts,  I  went  away  to  Paris, 
and  there  he  robbed  me  of  all  I  had  and  threw  me  over  and 
went  ofi  with  another  woman.  I  tried  to  poison  myself. 
...  It  was  so  silly,  so  shameful.  .  .  .  And  suddenly  I 
longed  to  be  back  in  Russia,  my  own  land,  with  my  little 
girl.  .  .  .  {Wifes  her  tears^  Lord,  Lord  be  merciful  to  me, 
forgive  me  my  sins  !  Punish  me  no  more  !  {TaT:es  a  telegram 
out  of  her  fochet]  I  had  this  to-day  from  Paris.  .  .  .  He  begs 
my  forgiveness,  he  implores  me  to  return.  .  .  .  {Tears  it 
wp]  Don't  I  hear  music  ?  {Listens. 

Gaev.  That  is  our  celebrated  Jewish  band.  You 
remember — four  violins,  a  flute,  and  a  double-bass. 

LuBOV.  So  it  still  exists  ?  It  would  be  nice  if  they  came 
along  some  evening. 

LoPAKHiN.  {Listens]  I  can't  hear.  .  .  .  {Sings  quietly] 
"  For  money  will  the  Germans  make  a  Frenchman  of  a 
Russian."  {Laughs]  I  saw  such  an  awfully  funny  thing  at 
the  theatre  last  night. 

LuBOV.  I'm  quite  sure  there  wasn't  anything  at  all  funny. 
You  oughtn't  to  go  and  see  plays,  you  ought  to  go  and 
look  at  yourself.  What  a  grey  life  you  lead,  what  a  lot 
you  talk  unnecessarily. 

LoPAKmN.  It's  true.  To  speak  the  straight  truth,  we 
live  a  silly  life.  {Pause]  My  father  was  a  peasant,  an  idiot 


ACT  II  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD  241 

he  understood  nothing,  he  didn't  teach  me,  he  was  always 
drunk,  and  always  used  a  stick  on  me.  In  point  of  fact, 
I'm  a  fool  and  an  idiot  too.  I've  never  learned  anything, 
my  handwriting  is  bad,  I  write  so  that  I'm  quite  ashamed 
before  people,  like  a  pig  ! 

LuBOV.  You  ought  to  get  married,  my  friend. 

LoPAKHiN.  Yes  .  .  .  that's  true. 

LuBOV.  Why  not  to  our  Varya  ?     She's  a  nice  girl. 

LoPAKHiN.  Yes. 

LuBOV.  She's  quite  homely  in  her  ways,  works  all  day, 
and,  what  matters  most,  she's  in  love  with  you.  And 
you've  liked  her  for  a  long  time. 

LoPAKmN.  Well  ?     I  don't  mind  .  .  .  she's  a  nice  girl. 

[Pause. 

Gaev.  I'm  oSered  a  place  in  a  bank.  Siz  thousand 
roubles  a  year.  .  .  .  Did  you  hear  ? 

LuBOV.  What's  the  matter  with  you  !  Stay  where  you 
are.  .  .  • 

Enter  FiERS  tvith  an  overcoat. 

FiERS.  [To  Gaev]  Please,  sir,  put  this  on,  it's  damp. 

Gaev.  [Putting  it  on]  You're  a  nuisance,  old  man. 

FiERS.  It's  all  very  well.  .  .  .  You  went  away  this 
morning  without  telling  me.  [Examining  Gaev. 

LuBOV.  How  old  you've  grown,  Fiers  ! 

FiERS.  I  bog  your  pardon  ? 

LoPAKHiN.  She  says  you've  grown  very  old  ! 

Fiers.  I've  been  alive  a  long  time.  They  were  already 
getting  ready  to  marry  me  before  your  father  was 
born.  .  .  .  [Laughs]  And  when  the  Emancipation 
came  I  was  already  first  valet.  Only  I  didn't  agree 
with  the  Emancipation  and  remained  with  my  people.  .  .  . 
[Pausel  I  remember  everybody  was  happy,  but 
they  didn't  know  why. 

Q 


242   THE    С  II  E  R  U  Y    О  II  СИ  Л  R  D   лет  ii 

LorAKiiiN.  It  was  very  good  for  them  in  the  old  days. 
At  any  rate,  they  used  to  beat  them. 

FiERS.  [Not  hearing]  Rather.  The  peasants  kept  their 
distance  from  the  masters  and  the  masters  kept  their 
distance  from  the  peasants,  but  now  everything's  all 
anyhow  and  you  can't  understand  anything. 

Gaev.  Be  quiet,  Fiers.  I've  got  to  go  to  town  to- 
morrow. I've  been  promised  an  introduction  to  a  General 
who  may  lend  me  money  on  a  bill. 

LoPAKHiN.  Nothing  will  come  of  it.  And  you  won't 
pay  your  interest,  don't  you  worry. 

LuBOV.  He's  talking  rubbish.     There's  no  General  at  all. 
Enter  Trofimov,  Anya,  and  Varya. 

Gaev.  Here  they  are. 

Anya.  Mother's  sitting  down  here. 

LuBOV.  [Tenderly]  Come,  come,  my  dears.  .  .  .  [Em- 
bracing Anya  and  Varya]  If  you  two  only  knew  how  much 
I  love  you.     Sit  down  next  to  me,  like  that.  [All  sit  down. 

LoPAKHiN.  Our  eternal  student  is  always  with  the  ladies. 

Trofimov.  That's  not  your  business. 

LoPAKHiN.  He'll  soon  be  fifty,  and  he's  still  a  student. 

Trofimov.  Leave  ofi  your  silly  jokes ! 

LoPAKHiN.  Getting  angry,  eh,  silly  ? 

Trofimov.  Shut  up,  can't  you. 

LoPAKHiN.  [Laughs]  I  wonder  what  you  think  of  me  1 

Trofimov.  I  think,  Ermolai  Alexeyevitch,  that  you're  a 
rich  man,  and  you'll  soon  be  a  millionaire.  Just  as  the 
wild  beast  which  eats  everything  it  finds  is  needed  for 
changes  to  take  place  in  matter,  so  you  are  needed  too. 

[All  laugh. 

Varya.  Better  tell  us  something  about  the  planets,  Peter. 

LuBOV  Andre  YEVNA.  No,  let's  go  on  with  yesterday'  stalk! 

Trofimov.  About  what  ? 


ACT  II  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD  243 

Gaev.  About  the  proud  man. 

Trofimov.  Yesterday  we  talked  for  a  long  time  but  we 
didn't  come  to  anything  in  the  end.  There's  something 
mystical  about  the  proud  man,  in  your  sense.  Perhaps 
you  are  right  from  your  point  of  view,  but  if  you  take  the 
matter  simply,  without  complicating  it,  then  what  pride 
can  there  be,  what  sense  can  there  be  in  it,  if  a  man  is 
imperfectly  made,  physiologically  speaking,  if  in  the  vast 
majority  of  cases  he  is  coarse  and  stupid  and  deeply 
unhappy  ?  We  must  stop  admiring  one  another.  We 
must  work,  nothing  more. 

Gaev.  You'll  die,  all  the  same. 

Trofimov.  Who  knows  ?  And  what  does  it  mean — 
you'll  die  ?  Perhaps  a  man  has  a  hundred  senses,  and 
when  he  dies  only  the  five  known  to  us  are  destroyed  and 
the  remaining  ninety-five  arc  left  alive. 

LuBOV.  How  clever  of  you,  Peter  ! 

LoPAKmN.  [Ironically]  Oh,  awfully  ! 

Trofimov.  The  human  race  progresses,  perfecting  its 
powers.  Everything  that  is  unattainable  now  will  some 
day  be  near  at  hand  and  comprehensible,  but  we  must  work, 
we  must  help  with  all  our  strength  those  who  seek  to  know 
what  fate  will  bring.  Meanwhile  in  Russia  only  a  very 
few  of  us  work.  The  vast  majority  of  those  intellectuals 
whom  I  know  seek  for  nothing,  do  nothing,  and  are  at 
present  incapable  of  hard  work.  They  call  themselves 
intellectuals,  but  they  use  "  thou  "  and  "  thee  "  to  their 
servants,  they  treat  the  peasants  like  animals,  they  learn 
badly,  they  read  nothing  seriously,  they  do  absolutely 
nothing,  about  science  they  only  talk,  about  art  they 
understand  little.  They  are  all  serious,  they  all  have 
severe  faces,  they  all  talk  about  important  things.  They 
philosophize,  and  at  the  same  time,  the  vast  majority  of  us, 


244  Т  II  E    CHERRY    О  R  С  II  A  R  D  лет  ii 

ninety-nine  out  of  a  hundred,  live  like  savages,  fii^'hting  and 
cursing  at  the  slightest  opportunity,  eating  filthily,  sleeping 
in  the  dirt,  in  stuffiness,  with  fleas,  stinks,  smells,  moral 
filth,  and  so  on.  .  .  .  And  it's  obvious  that  all  our  sice  talk 
is  only  carried  on  to  distract  ourselves  and  others.  Tell 
me,  where  are  those  creches  we  hear  so  much  of  ?  and  where 
are  those  reading-rooms  ?  People  only  write  novels  about 
them  ;  they  don't  really  exist.  Only  dirt,  vulgarity,  and 
Asiatic  plagues  really  exist.  .  .  .  I'm  afraid,  and  1  don't 
at  all  like  serious  faces  ;  I  don't  like  serious  conversations. 
Let's  be  quiet  sooner. 

LoPAKmN.  You  know,  I  get  up  at  five  every  morning,  I 
work  from  morning  till  evening,  I  am  always  dealing  with 
money — my  own  and  other  people's — and  I  see  what  people 
are  like.  You've  only  got  to  begin  to  do  anything  to  find 
out  how  few  honest,  honourable  people  there  are.  Some- 
times, when  I  can't  sleep,  I  think  :  "  Oh  Lord,  you've  given 
us  huge  forests,  infinite  fields,  and  endless  horizons,  and 
we,  living  here,  ought  really  to  be  giants." 

LuBOV.  You  want  giants,  do  you  ?  .  .  .  They're  only 
good  in  stories,  and  even  there  they  frighten  one. 

Epikhodov  e7iters  at  the  back  of  the  stage  playing 
Ms  guitar.    Thoughtfully :  Epikhodov's  there. 

Anya.  [Thoughtfully]  Epikhodov's  there. 

Gaev.  The  sun's  set. 

Trofimov.  Yes. 

Gaev.  [Not  loudly,  as  if  declaimingl  0  Nature,  thou  art 
wonderful,  thou  shinest  with  eternal  radiance  !  Oh,  beau- 
tiful and  indifferent  one,  thou  whom  we  call  mother,  thou 
containest  in  thyself  existence  and  death,  thou  livest  and 
destroyest.  .  .  . 

Varya.  [Entreatingly']  Uncle,  dear  ! 

Anya.  Uncle,  you're  doing  it  again  ! 


ACT  II  Т  Н  E    CHERRY    О  R  С  Н  A  R  D  245 

Trofimov.  You'd  better  double  the  red  into  the  middle. 
Gaev.  I'll  be  quiet,  I'll  be  quiet. 

They   all   sit   thoughtfully.    It   is   quiet.    Only   tha 
mumbling  of  Fiers  is  heard.    Suddenly  a  distant 
sound  is  heard  as  if  from  the  sky,  the  sound  of  a 
breaking  string,  which  dies  away  sadly. 
LuBOV.  What's  that  ? 

LoPAKHiN.  I  don't  know.     It  may  be  a  bucket  fallen 
down  a  well  somewhere.    But  it's  some  way  off. 
Gaev.  Or  perhaps  it's  some  bird  .  .  .  like  a  heron. 
Trofimov.  Or  an  owl. 

LuBOV.  [Shudders]  It's  unpleasant,  somehow.     [A  pause. 
Fiers.  Before  the  misfortune  the  same  thing  happened. 
An  owl  screamed  and  the  samovar  hummed  without  stop- 
ping. 
Gaev.  Before  what  misfortune  ? 

Fiers.  Before  the  Emancipation.  [A  pause. 

LuBOV.  You  know,  my  friends,  let's  go  in  ;  it's  evening 
now.  [To  Anya]  You've  tears  in  your  eyes.  .  .  .  What  is 
it,  little  girl  ?  [Embraces  her. 

Anya.  It's  nothing,  mother. 
Trofimov.  Some  one's  coming. 

Enter  a  Tramp  in  an  old  white  peaked  cap  and  over- 
coat.    He  is  a  little  drunk. 
Tramp.  Excuse  me,  may  I  go  this  way  straight  through 
to  the  station  ? 
Gaev.  You  may.    Go  along  this  path. 
Tramp.  I  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 
[Hiccups]  Lovely    weather.  .  .  .  [Declaiins]  My    brother, 
my  suffering  brother.  .  .  .  Come  out  on  the  Volga,  you 
whose  groans  .  .  .  [To  Varya]  Mademoiselle,  please  give 
a  hungry  Russian  thirty  copecks.  .  .  . 
Varya  screams,  frightened. 


246  Т  II  E    С  II  Е  11  R  Y    О  11  С  II  А  11  D   лет  и 

Loi'AKUiN.  [Angrily \  There's  manners  everybody's  got 
to  keep  ! 

LuHov.  [With  a  start]  Take  this  .  .  .  here  you  are.  .  .  . 
[Feels  in  her  purse]  There's  no  silver.  ...  It  doesn't 
matter,  here's  gold. 

Tramp.  I  am  deeply  grateful  to  you  !      [Exit.     Laughter. 

Varya.  [Frightened]  I'm  going,  I'm  going.  .  .  .  Oh, 
little  mother,  at  home  there's  nothing  for  the  servants  to 
eat,  and  you  gave  him  gold. 

LuBOV.  What  is  to  be  done  with  such  a  fool  аз  I  am  ! 
At  home  I'll  give  you  everything  I've  got.  Ermolai 
Alexeyevitch,  lend  me  some  more  !  .  .  . 

LoPAKHiN.  Very  well. 

LuBOV.  Let's  go,  it's  time.  And  Varya,  we've  settled 
your  affair  ;   I  congratulate  you. 

Varya.  [Crying]  You  shouldn't  joke  about  this,  mother. 

LoPAKHiN.  Oh,  feel  me,  get  thee  to  a  nunnery. 

Gaev.  My  hands  are  all  trembling ;  I  haven't  played 
billiards  for  a  long  time. 

LoPAKHiN.  Oh,  feel  me,  nymph,  remember  me  in  thine 
orisons. 

LuBOV.  Come  along ;  it'll  soon  be  supper-time. 

Varya.  He  did  frighten  me.     My  heart  is  beating  hard. 

LoPAKmN.  Let  me  remind  you,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
on  August  22  the  cherry  orchard  will  be  sold.  Think  of 
that !  .  .  .  Think  of  that !  .  .  . 

All  go  out  except  Trofimov  and  Anya. 

Anya.  [Laughs]  Thanks  to  the  tramp  who  frightened 
Barbara,  we're  alone  now. 

Trofimov.  Varya's  afraid  we  may  fall  in  love  with  each 
other  and  won't  get  away  from  us  for  days  on  end.  Her 
narrow  mind  won't  allow  her  to  understand  that  we  are 
above  love.    To  escape  all  the  petty  and  deceptive  things 


ACT  II  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD  247 

which  prevent  our  being  happy  and  free,  that  is  the  aim 
and  meaning  of  our  lives.  Forward  !  We  go  irresistibly  on 
to  that  bright  star  which  burns  there,  in  the  distance  ! 
Don't  lag  behind,  friends  ! 

Any  A.  [Clapping  her  hands]  How  beautifully  you  talk  ! 
[Pause]  It  is  glorious  here  to-day  ! 

Trofimov.  Yes,  the  weather  is  wonderful. 

Anya.  What  have  you  done  to  me,  Peter  ?  I  don't 
love  the  cherry  orchard  as  I  used  to.  I  loved  it  so  tenderly, 
I  thought  there  was  no  better  place  in  the  world  than  our 
orchard. 

Trofimov.  All  Russia  is  our  orchard.  The  land  is  great 
and  beautiful,  there  are  many  marvellous  places  in  it. 
[Pause]  Think,  Anya,  your  grandfather,  your  great- 
grandfather, and  all  your  ancestors  were  serf-owners,  they 
owned  living  souls  ;  and  now,  doesn't  something  human 
look  at  you  from  every  cherry  in  the  orchard,  every  leaf 
and  every  stalk  ?  Don't  you  hear  voices  .  .  .  ?  Oh,  it's 
awful,  your  orchard  is  terrible ;  and  when  in  the  evening 
or  at  night  you  walk  through  the  orchard,  then  the  old 
bark  on  the  trees  sheds  a  dim  light  and  the  old  cherry-trees 
seem  to  be  dreaming  of  all  that  was  a  hundred,  two  hundred 
years  ago,  and  are  oppressed  by  their  heavy  visions.  Still, 
at  any  rate,  we've  left  those  two  hundred  years  behind  us. 
So  far  we've  gained  nothing  at  all — we  don't  yet  know 
what  the  past  is  to  be  to  us — we  only  philosophize,  we 
complain  that  we  are  dull,  or  we  drink  vodka.  For  it's  so 
clear  that  in  order  to  begin  to  live  in  the  present  we  must 
first  redeem  the  past,  and  that  can  only  be  done  by  suffering, 
by  strenuous,  uninterrupted  labour.  Understand  that, 
Anya. 

Anya.  The  house  in  which  we  live  has  long  ceased  to  be 
our  house  ;  I  shall  go  away.     I  give  you  my  word. 


248  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD  лети 

TrofIiMOV.  If  you  have  the  housekeeping  keys,  throw 
them  down  the  well  and  go  away.     Be  as  free  as  the  wind. 

Anya.  [Enthusiastically]  How  nicely  you  said  that ! 

Trofimov.  Believe  шс,  Anya,  believe  me !  I'm  not 
thirty  yet,  I'm  young,  I'm  still  a  student,  but  I  have  under- 
gone a  great  deal !  I'm  as  hungry  as  the  winter,  I'm  ill, 
I'm  shaken.  I'm  as  poor  as  a  beggar,  and  where  haven't 
I  been — fate  has  tossed  me  everywhere !  But  my  soul  is 
always  my  own  ;  every  minute  of  the  day  and  the  night 
it  is  filled  with  unspeakable  presentiments.  I  know  that 
happiness  is  coming,  Anya,  I  see  it  already.  .  .  . 

Anya.  [Thoughtful]  The  moon  is  rising. 

Epikhodov  is  heard  playing  the  same  sad  song  on  his 
guitar.  The  moon  rises.  Somewhere  by  the  poplars 
Varya  is  looking  for  Anya  and  calling,  "  Anya, 
where  are  you  ?  " 

Trofimov.  Yes,  the  moon  has  risen.  [Pause]  There  is 
happiness,  there  it  comes ;  it  comes  nearer  and  nearer ; 
I  hear  its  steps  already.  And  if  we  do  not  see  it  we  shall 
not  know  it,  but  what  does  that  matter  ?  Others  will 
sec  it ! 

The  Voice  of  Varya.  Anya  !     Where  are  you  ? 

Trofimov.  That's  Varya  again  !  [Angry]  Disgraceful ! 

Anya.  Never  mind.  Let's  go  to  the  river.  It's  nice 
there. 

Trofimov.  Let's  go.  [They  go  out, 

TuE  Voice  of  Varya.  Anya!     Anya! 

Curtairi. 


ACT   III 

A  reception-room  cut  oJJ  from  a  drawing-room  by  an  arch. 
Chandelier  lighted.  A  Jewish  band,  the  one  mentioned  in 
Act  II,  is  heard  flaying  in  another  room.  Evening.  In 
the  drawing-room  the  grand  rond  is  being  danced.  Voice 
of  SiMEONOV  PiscHiN,  "  Promenade  a  une  paire !  " 
Dancers  come  into  the  reception-room  ;  the  first  pair  are 
PrscmN  and  Charlotta  Ivanovna  ;  the  second,  Tro- 
FiMOV  and  LuBOV  Andreyevna  ;  the  third,  Anya  and 
the  Post  Office  Clerk  ;  the  fourth,  Varya  and  the 
Station-master,  and  so  on.  Varya  is  crying  gently 
and  wipes  away  her  tears  as  she  dances.  Dunyasha  is 
in  the  last  pair.  They  go  off  into  the  drawing-room, 
PisCHiN  shouting,  "  Grand  rond,  balancez  :  "  and  "  Les 
cavaliers  Л  genou  et  remerciez  vos  dames  !  "  Fiers,  in 
a  dress-coat,  carries  a  tray  with  seltzer-water  across. 
Enter  PisCHiN  and  Trofiuov  from  the  drawing-room. 

PiscHiN.  I'm  full-blooded  and  have  already  had  two 
strokes ;  it's  hard  for  me  to  dance,  but,  as  they  say,  if  you're 
in  Rome,  you  must  do  as  Rome  does.  I've  got  the  strength 
of  a  horse.  My  dead  father,  who  liked  a  joke,  peace  to  his 
bones,  used  to  say,  talking  of  our  ancestors,  that  the  ancient 
stock  of  the  Simeonov-Pischins  was  descended  from  that 
identical  horse  that  Caligula  made  a  senator,  .  .  .  [Sits] 
But  the  trouble  is,  I've  no  money  !  A  hungry  dog  only 
believes  in  meat.  [Snores  and  wakes  up  again  immediately] 
So  I  .  .  .  only  believe  in  money.  .  .  . 

249 


250  THE    CHERRY    О  R  С  11  Л  R  D  act  iii 

Trofimov.  Yes.  There  is  something  equine  about  your 
figure. 

PiscHiN.  Well  ...  a  horse  is  a  fine  animal  .  .  .  you 
can  sell  a  horse. 

Billiard  flaying  can  be  heard  in  the  next  room.    Varya 
appears  under  the  arch. 

Trofimov.  [Teasing]  Madame  Lopakhin  !  Madame  Lo- 
pakhin ! 

Varya.  [Angry]  Decayed  gentleman  ! 

Trofimov.  Yes,  I  am  a  decayed  gentleman,  and  I'm 
proud  of  it ! 

Varya.  [Bitterly]  We've  hired  the  musicians,  but  how 
are  they  to  be  paid  ?  [Exit. 

Trofimov.  If  the  energy  which  you,  in  the  course  of  your 
life,  have  spent  in  looking  for  money  to  pay  interest  had 
been  used  for  something  else,  then,  I  believe,  after  all,  you'd 
be  able  to  turn  everything  upside  down. 

PiscHiN.  Nietzsche  ...  a  philosopher  ...  a  very  great, 
a  most  celebrated  man  ...  a  man  of  enormous  brain,  says 
in  his  books  that  you  can  forge  bank-notes. 

Trofimov.  And  have  you  read  Nietzsche  1 

PiscmN.  Well  .  .  .  Dashenka  told  me.  Now  I'm  in 
such  a  position,  I  wouldn't  mind  forging  them  •  .  .  I've 
got  to  pay  310  roubles  the  day  after  to-morrow  .  .  .  I've 
got  130  already.  .  .  .  [Feels  his  pockets,  nervously]  I've 
lost  the  money  !  The  money's  gone  !  [Crying]  Where's  the 
money  ?  [Joyfully]  Here  it  is  behind  the  lining  ...  I  even 
began  to  perspire. 

Enter  LuBOV  Andreyevna  and  Charlotta  Ivanovna. 

LuBOV.  [Humming  a  Caucasian  darice]  Why  is  Leonid 
away  so  long  ?  What's  he  doing  in  town  ?  [To  Dunyasha] 
Dunyasha,  give  the  musicians  some  tea. 

Trofimov.  Business  is  ofi,  I  suppose. 


ACT  III  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD  251 

LuBOV.  And  the  musicians  needn't  have  come,  and  we 
needn't  have  got  up  this  ball.  .  .  .  Well,  never  mind.  .  .  . 

[Sits  and  sings  softly. 

Charlotta.  [Gives  a  pach  of  cards  to  Pischin]  Here's  a 
pack  of  cards,  think  of  any  one  card  you  like. 

PiscmN.  I've  thought  of  one. 

Charlotta.  Now  shuffle.  All  right,  now.  Give  them 
here,  oh  my  dear  Mr.  Pischin.  Eiyi,  zwei,  drei !  Now  look 
and  you'll  find  it  in  your  coat-tail  pocket. 

Pischin.  [Takes  a  card  out  of  Ms  coat-tail  'pochet']  Eight  of 
spades,  quite  right !  [Surprised^  Think  of  that  now  ! 

Charlotta.  [Holds  the  pack  of  cards  on  the  palm  of  her 
hand.  To  Trofimov]  Now  tell  me  quickly.  What's  the 
top  card  ? 

Trofimov.  Well,  the  queen  of  spades. 

Charlotta.  Right !  [To  Pischin]  Well  now  ?  What 
card's  on  top  ? 

Pischin.  Ace  of  hearts. 

Charlotta.  Right !  [Claps  her  hands,  the  pack  of  cards 
vanishes]  How  lovely  the  weather  is  to-day.  [A  mysterious 
woman's  voice  answers  her,  as  if  from  under  the  floor, "  Oh  yes, 
it's  lovely  weather,  madam."]  You  are  so  beautiful,  you  are 
my  ideal.  [Voice, "  You,  madam,  please  me  very  much  too."] 

Station-master.  [Applauds]  Madame  ventriloquist, 
bravo  ! 

Pischin.  [Surprised]  Think  of  that,  now  !  Delightful, 
Charlotta  Ivanovna  .  .  .  I'm  simply  in  love.  .  .  . 

Charlotta.  In  love  1  [Shrugging  her  shoulders]  Can  you 
love  ?     Outer  Mensch  aber  schlechter  Musikant. 

Trofimov.  [Slaps  Pischin  on  the  shoulder]  Oh,  you 
horse ! 

Charlotta.  Attention  please,  here's  another  trick. 
Takes  a  shawl  from  a  chair]  Here's  a  very  nice  plaid  shawl, 


252   THE    CHERRY    OR  CHARD  лстш 

I'm  going  to  sell  it.  .  .  .  [Shakesit]  Won't  anybody  buy  it  ? 
PiscHiN.  [Astonished]  Tliink  of  that  now  ! 
Charlotta.  Ein,  zwei,  drei. 

She  quickly  lifts  wp  the  shawl,  which  is  hanging  down. 
Anya  is  standing  behind  it ;    she  hows  and  runs 
to  licr  mother,  hugs  her  and  runs  back  to  the  drawing- 
room  amid  general  applause. 
LuBOV.  [Applauds]  Bravo,  bravo  ! 
Charlotta.  Once  again  !    Ein,  zwei,  drei ! 

[Lifts  the  shawl.    Varya  stands  behind  it  and  bows. 
PiSCHiN.  [Astonished]  Think  of  that,  now. 
Charlotta.  The  end ! 

Throws  the  shawl  at  PiscniN,  curtseys  and  runs  into 

the  drawing-room. 

PiscHiN.  [Runs    after    her]  Little    wretch.  .  .  .  What  ? 

Would  you  ?  [Exit. 

LuBOV.  Leonid  hasn't  come  yet.     I  don't  understand 

what  he's  doing  so  long  in  town  !     Everything  must  be  over 

by  now.     The  estate  must  be  sold  ;    or,  if  the  sale  never 

came  ofi,  then  why  does  he  stay  away  so  long  ? 

Varya.  [Ti-ies  to  soothe  her]  Uncle  has  bought  it.  I'm 
certain  of  it. 
Trofimov.  [Sarcastically]  Oh,  yes  ! 
Varya.  Grandmother  sent  him  her  authority  for  him 
to  buy  it  in  her  name  and  transfer  the  debt  to  her.  She's 
doing  it  for  Anya.  And  I'm  certain  that  God  will  help  us 
and  uncle  will  buy  it. 

LuBOV.  Grandmother  sent  fifteen  thousand  roubles  from 
Yaroslav  to  buy  the  property  in  her  name — she  won't  trust 
us — and  that  wasn't  even  enough  to  pay  the  interest. 
[Covers  her  face  with  her  hands]  My  fate  will  be  settled 
to-day,  my  fate.  .  .  . 

Trofimov.  [Teasing  Varya]  Madame  Lopakhin  ! 


ACT  III  THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD  253 

Varya.  [A^igry]  Eternal  student !  He's  already  been 
expelled  twice  from  the  university. 

LuBOV.  Why  are  you  getting  angry,  Varya  ?  He's 
teasing  you  about  Lopakhin,  well  what  of  it  ?  You  can 
marry  Lopakhin  if  you  want  to,  he's  a  good,  interesting 
man.  .  .  .  You  needn't  if  you  don't  want  to  ;  nobody 
wants  to  force  you  against  your  will,  my  darling. 

Varya.  I  do  look  at  the  matter  seriously,  little 
mother,  to  be  quite  frank.  He's  a  good  man,  and  I  like 
him. 

LuBov.  Then  marfy  him.  I  don't  understand  what 
you're  waiting  for. 

Varya.  I  can't  propose  to  him  myself,  little  mother. 
People  have  been  talking  about  him  to  me  for  two  years 
now,  but  he  either  says  nothing,  or  jokes  about  it.  I 
imderstand.  He's  getting  rich,  he's  busy,  he  can't  bother 
about  me.  If  I  had  some  money,  even  a  little,  even  only  a 
hundred  roubles,  I'd  throw  up  everything  and  go  away. 
I'd  go  into  a  convent. 
Teofimov.  How  nice ! 

Varya.  [To  Trofimov]  A  student  ought  to  have  sense  ! 

[Gently,  in  tears]  How  ugly  you  are  now,  Peter,  how  old 

you've  grown  !  [To  Lubov  Andreyevna,  no  longer  crying] 

But  I  can't  go  on  without  working,  little  mother.     I  want 

to  be  doing  something  every  minute.  [Enter  Yasha. 

Yasha.  [Nearly  laugJiing]  Epikhodov's  broken  a  billiard 

cue !  [Exit. 

Varya.  Why  is  Epikhodov  here  ?     Who  said  he  could 

play  billiards  ?     I  don't  understand  these  people.      [Exit. 

Lubov.  Don't  tease  her,  Peter,  you  see  that  she's  quite 

unhappy  without  that. 

Trofimov.  She  takes  too  much  on  herself,  she  keeps  on 
interfering  in  other  people's  business.     The  whole  summer 


254  Т  II  E    CHERRY    ORCHARD  actiii 

she's  given  no  peace  to  me  or  to  Anya,  she's  afraid  we'll  have 
a  romance  all  to  ourselves.  What  has  it  to  do  with  her  ? 
As  if  I'd  ever  given  her  grounds  to  believe  I'd  stoop  to  such 
vulgarity  !     We  are  above  love. 

LuBov.  Then  I  suppose  I  must  be  beneath  love.  [In 
agitation]  Why  isn't  Leonid  here  ?  If  I  only  knew  whether 
the  estate  is  sold  or  not !  The  disaster  seems  to  me  so  im- 
probable that  I  don't  know  what  to  think,  I'm  all  at  sea  . . . 
I  may  scream  ...  or  do  something  silly.  Save  me,  Peter. 
Say  something,  say  something. 

Trofimov.  Isn't  it  all  the  same  whether  the  estate  is  sold 
to-day  or  isn't  ?  It's  been  all  up  with  it  for  a  long  time  ; 
there's  no  turning  back,  the  path's  grown  over.  Be  calm, 
dear,  you  shouldn't  deceive  yourself  ;  for  once  in  your  life 
at  any  rate  you  must  look  the  truth  straight  in  the  face. 

LuBOV.  What  truth  ?  You  see  where  truth  is,  and  where 
untruth  is,  but  I  seem  to  have  lost  my  sight  and  see  nothing. 
You  boldly  settle  all  important  questions,  but  tell  me,  dear, 
isn't  it  because  you're  young,  because  you  haven't  had  time 
to  suffer  till  you  settled  a  single  one  of  your  questions  ? 
You  boldly  look  forward,  isn't  it  because  you  cannot  foresee 
or  expect  anything  terrible,  because  so  far  life  has  been 
hidden  from  your  young  eyes  ?  You  are  bolder,  more 
honest,  deeper  than  we  are,  but  think  only,  be  just  a  little 
magnanimous,  and  have  mercy  on  me.  I  was  born  here,  my 
father  and  mother  lived  here,  my  grandfather  too,  I  love  this 
house.  I  couldn't  understand  my  life  without  that  cherry 
orchard,  and  if  it  really  must  be  sold,  sell  me  with  it ! 
[Embraces  Trofimov,  kisses  his  forehead].  My  son  was 
drowned  here.  .  .  .  [IFeeps]  Have  pity  on  me,  good,  kind 
man. 

Trofimov.  You  know  I  sympathize  with  all  my  soul. 

LuBOV.  Yes,  but  it  ought  to  be  said  diSerently,  differ- 


ACTiiiTHE    CHERRY    ORCHARD  255 

ently.  .  .  .  [TaJces  another  handkerchief,  a  telegram  falls  on 
the  floor]  I'm  so  sick  at  heart  to-day,  you  can't  imagine. 
Here  it's  so  noisy,  my  soul  shakes  at  every  sound.  I  shake 
all  over,  and  I  can't  go  away  by  myself,  I'm  afraid  of  the 
silence.  Don't  judge  me  harshly,  Peter  ...  I  love  you, 
as  if  you  belonged  to  my  family.  I'd  gladly  let  Any  a  marry 
you,  I  swear  it,  only  dear,  you  ought  to  work,  finish  your 
studies.  You  don't  do  anything,  only  fate  throws  you 
about  from  place  to  place,  it's  so  odd.  .  .  .  Isn't  it  true  ? 
Yes  ?  And  you  ought  to  do  something  to  your  beard  to 
make  it  grow  better.  [Laughs]  You  are  funny  ! 

Trofimov.  [Picking  up  telegram]  I  don't  want  to  be  a 
Beau  Brummel. 

LuBOV.  This  telegram's  from  Paris.  I  get  one  every  day. 
Yesterday  and  to-day.  That  wild  man  is  ill  again,  he's  bad 
again.  .  .  .  He  begs  for  forgiveness,  and  implores  me  to 
come,  and  I  really  ought  to  go  to  Paris  to  be  near  him.  You 
look  severe,  Peter,  but  what  can  I  do,  my  dear,  what  can  I 
do  ;  he's  ill,  he's  alone,  unhappy,  and  who's  to  look  after 
him,  who's  to  keep  him  away  from  his  errors,  to  give  him 
his  medicine  punctually  ?  And  why  should  I  conceal  it  and 
say  nothing  about  it ;  I  love  him,  that's  plain,  I  love  him,  I 
love  him.  .  .  .  That  love  is  a  stone  round  my  neck  ;  I'm 
going  with  it  to  the  bottom,  but  I  love  that  stone  and  can't 
live  without  it.  [Squeezes  Trofimov's  hand]  Don't  think 
hardly  of  me,  Peter,  don't  say  anything  to  me,  don't 
say  .  .  . 

Trofimov.  [Weeping]  For  God's  sake  forgive  my  speak- 
ing candidly,  but  that  man  has  robbed  you  ! 

LuBOV.  No,  no,  no,  you  oughtn't  to  say  that ! 

[Stops  her  ears. 

Trofimov.  But  he's  a  wretch,  you  alone  don't  know  it ! 
He's  a  petty  thief,  a  nobody.  .  .  . 


256  Т  II  Е    С  И  Е  R  R  Y    О  11  С  II  А  R  D  лет  m 

LuBOV.  [Angry,    but    restraiiicd]  You're    twenty-six    or 
twenty-seven,  and  still  a  schoolboy  of  the  second  class  ! 
Trofimov.  Why  not ! 

LuBOV.  You  ouglit  to  be  a  man,  at  your  age  you  ought  to 
be  ablo  to  understand  those  who  love.  And  you  ought  to 
be  in  love  yourself,  you  must  fall  in  love  !  [Angry]  Yes, 
yes  !  You  aren't  pure,  you're  just  a  freak,  a  queer  fellow, 
a  funny  growth  .  . 

Trofimov.  [In  horror]  What  is  she  saying  ! 
LuBOV.  "  I'm  above  love  !  "     You're  not  above  love, 
you're  just  what  our  Fiers  calls  a  bungler.     Not  to  have  a 
mistress  at  your  age  ! 

Trofimov.  [In  horror]  Tliis  is  awful !  What  is  she 
saying  ?  [Goes  quickly  up  into  the  dramng-room,  clutching 
his  head]  It's  awful  ...  I  can't  stand  it,  I'll  go  away. 
[Exit,  but  returns  at  once]  All  is  over  between  us  !  [Exit. 
LuBOV.  [Shouts  after  him]  Peter,  wait !  Silly  man,  I  was 
joking  !  Peter  !  [Soynebody  is  heard  going  out  and  falling 
downstairs  noisily.  Anya  and  Varya  scream  ;  laughter  is 
heard  immediately]  What's  that  ? 

Anya  comes  running  in,  laughing. 
Anya.  Peter's  fallen  downstairs  !  [Runs  out  again. 

LuBOV.  This  Peter's  a  marvel. 

The  Station-master  stands  in  the  middle  of  the 
drawing-room  and  recites  "  The  Magdalen "  by 
Tolstoy.  He  is  listened  to,  but  he  has  only  de- 
livered a  few  lines  when  a  waltz  is  heard  from 
the  front  room,  and  the  recitation  is  stopped.  Every- 
body dances.  Trofimov,  Anya,  Yarya,  and 
LuBOV  Andreyevna  come  in  from  the  front  room. 
LuBOV.  Well,  Peter  .  .  .  you  pure  soul  ...  I  beg  your 
pardon  .  .  .  let's  dance. 

She  dances  with  Peter.    Anya  and  Varya  dance. 


ACTiii     THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    257 

FiEBS  enters  aiid  stands  his  stick  by  a  side  door. 
Yasha  has  also  come  in  and  looks  on  at  the  dance. 

Yasha.  Well,  grandfather  ? 

FiERS.  I'm  not  well.  At  our  baUs  some  time  back, 
generals  and  barons  and  admirals  used  to  dance,  and  now 
we  send  for  post-office  clerks  and  the  Station-master,  and 
even  they  come  as  a  favour.  I'm  very  weak.  The  dead 
master,  the  grandfather,  used  to  give  everybody  sealing-wax 
when  anything  was  wrong.  I've  taken  sealing-wax  every 
day  for  twenty  years,  and  more  ;  perhaps  that's  why  I  still 
live. 

Yasba.  I'm  tired  of  you,  grandfather.  [  Yawns]  If  you'd 
only  hurry  up  and  kick  the  bucket. 

FiERS.  Oh  you  •  .  .  bungler  !  [Mutters 

Trofimov  and  Lubov  Andreyevna  dance  in  the 
reception-room,  then  into  the  sitting-room. 

LuBOV.  MerQi.    I'll  sit  down.    [Sits]  I'm  tired. 
Enter  Anya. 

Anya.  [Excited]  Somebody  in  the  kitchen  was  saying 
just  now  that  the  cherry  orchard  was  sold  to-day. 

LuBOV.  Sold  to  whom. 

Anya.  He  didn't  say  to  whom.     He's  gone  mad. 

[Dances  out  into  the  reception-room  with  Trofimov. 

Yasha.  Some  old  man  was  chattering  about  it  a  long 
time  ago.    A  stranger  ! 

FiERS.  And  Leonid  Andreyevitch  isn't  here  yet,  he  hasn't 
come.  He's  wearing  a  light,  demi-saison  overcoat.  He'll 
catch  cold.     Oh  these  young  fellows. 

LuBOV.  I'll  die  of  this.  Go  and  find  out,  Yasha,  to  whom 
it's  sold. 

Yasha.  Oh,  but  he's  been  gone  a  long  time,  the  old 
щап  [Laughs. 


258    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD     actiii 

LuBOV.  [Slightly  vexed]  Why  do  you  laugh  ?  What  are 
you  glad  about  ? 

Yasha.  Epikhodov's  too  funny.  He's  a  silly  man. 
Two-and-twenty  troubles. 

LuBOV.  Fiers,  if  the  estate  is  sold,  where  will  you  go  ? 

FiERS.  I'll  go  wherever  you  order  me  to  go. 

LuBOV.  Why  do  you  look  like  that  ?  Are  you  ill  ?  1 
think  you  ought  to  go  to  bed.  .  •  . 

Fiers.  Yes  .  .  .  [With  a  smile]  I'll  go  to  bed,  and  who'll 
hand  things  round  and  give  orders  without  me  ?  I've 
the  whole  house  on  my  shoulders. 

Yasha.  [To  Lubov  Andreyevna]  Lubov  Andreyevna! 
I  want  to  ask  a  favour  of  you,  if  you'll  be  so  kind  !  If  you 
go  to  Paris  again,  then  please  take  me  with  you.  It's 
absolutely  impossible  for  me  to  stop  here.  [Looking  round  ; 
in  an  undertone]  What's  the  good  of  talking  about  it,  you 
see  for  yourself  that  this  is  an  uneducated  country,  with  an 
immoral  population,  and  it's  so  dull.  The  food  in  the 
kitchen  is  beastly,  and  here's  this  Fiers  walking  about 
mumbUng  various  inappropri?''-^  things.  Take  me  with 
you,  be  so  kind  ! 

Enter  PiscHiN. 

PiSCHiN.  I  come  to  ask  for  the  pleasure  of  a  little  waltz, 
dear  lady.  .  .  .  [Lubov  Andreyevna  goes  to  him]  But  all 
the  same,  you  wonderful  woman,  I  must  have  180  little 
roubles  from  you.  ...  I  must.  .  .  .  [They  dance]  ISO 
little  roubles.  .  .  .     [They  go  through  into  the  drawing-room. 

Yasha.  [Sings  softhj] 

"  Oh,  will  you  understand 
My  soiil's  deep  restlessness  ?  " 

In  the  drawing-room  a  figure  in  a  grey  top-hat  ar^d 
in  baggy  check  trousers  is  waving  its  hands  and 


ACTiii    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    259 

jumping  about ;  there  are  cries  of^''  Bravo,  Charlotta 
Ivanovna  !  " 

DuNYAsicA.  {Stofs  to  fowder  her  face']  The  young  mistress 
tells  me  to  dance — there  are  a  lot  of  gentlemen,  but  few 
ladies — and  my  head  goes  round  when  I  dance,  and  my 
heart  beats.  Tiers  Nicolaevitch  ;  the  Post-office  clerk  told 
me  something  just  now  which  made  me  catch  my  breath. 

{The  music  grows  faint. 

FiERS.  What  did  he  say  to  you  ? 

DuNYASHA.  He  says,  "  You're  like  a  little  flower." 

Yasha.  [Ya%tms'\  Impolite.  .  .  .  [Exit. 

DuNYASHA.  Like  a  little  flower.  I'm  such  a  delicate 
girl ;  I  simply  love  words  of  tenderness. 

FiERs.  You'll  lose  your  head. 
Enter  Epikhodov. 

Epikhodov.  You,  Avdotya  Fedorovna,  want  to  see  me 
no  more  than  if  I  was  some  insect.  {Sighs']  Oh,  life  ! 

DuNYASHA.  What  do  you  want  ? 

Epikhodov.  Undoubtedly,  perhaps,  you  may  be  right. 
{Sighs]  But,  certainly,  if  you  regard  the  matter  from  the 
aspect,  then  you,  if  I  may  say  so,  and  you  must  excuse  my 
candidness,  have  absolutely  reduced  me  to  a  state  of  mind. 
I  know  my  fate,  every  day  something  unfortunate  happens  to 
me,  and  I've  grown  used  to  it  a  long  time  ago,  I  even  look 
at  my  fate  with  a  smile.  You  gave  me  your  word,  and 
though  I  .  .  . 

Dun  YASHA.  Please,  we'll  talk  later  on,  but  leave  me 
alone  now.     I'm  meditating  now.  {Plays  mth  her  fan. 

Epikhodov.  Every  day  something  unfortunate  happens 
to  me,  and  I,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  only  smile,  and 
even  laugh. 

Vary  A  enters  from  the  drawing-room. 

Varya.  Haven't  you  gone  yet,  Simeon  ?     You  really 


260    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    act  in 

have  no  respect  for  anybody.  [To  Dunyasha]  You  go 
away,  Dunyasha.  [To  Epikhodov]  You  play  billiards  and 
break  a  cue,  and  walk  about  the  drawing-room  as  if  you 
were  a  visitor  ! 

Epikhodov.  You  cannot,  if  I  may  say  so,  call  me  to 
order. 

Varya.  I'm  not  calling  you  to  order,  I'm  only  telling 
you.  You  just  walk  about  from  place  to  place  and 
never  do  your  work.  Goodness  only  knows  why  we  keep 
a  clerk. 

Epikhodov.  [Offended]  Whether  I  work,  or  walk  about, 
or  eat,  or  play  billiards,  is  only  a  matter  to  be  settled  by 
people  of  understanding  and  my  elders. 

Varya.  You  dare  to  talk  to  me  like  that !  [Furious] 
You  dare  1  You  mean  that  I  know  nothing  ?  Get  out  of 
this  !     This  minute  ! 

Epikhodov.  [Nervous]  I  must  ask  you  to  express  your- 
self more  delicately. 

Varya.  [Beside  herself]  Get  out  this  minute.  Get  out ! 
[He  goes  to  the  door,  she  follows]  Two-and-twenty  troubles  ! 
I  don't  want  any  sign  of  you  here !  I  don't  want  to 
see  anything  of  you !  [Epikhodov  has  gone  out ;  his 
voice  can  be  heard  outside  :  "  I'll  таЫ  a  complaint  against 
you."]  What,  coming  back  1  [Snatches  up  the  stick  left 
by  FiERS  by  the  door]  Go  ...  go  ...  go,  I'll  show 
you.  .  .  .  Are  you  going  1  Are  you  going  ?  Well,  then 
take  that.  [She  hits  out  as  Lopakhin  enters. 

LoPAKHiN.  Much  obliged. 

Varya.  [Angry  but  amusei]  I'm  sorry. 

Lopakhin.  Never  mind.  I  thank  you  for  my  pleasant 
reception. 

Varya.  It  isn't  worth  any  thanks.  [TFa?i"5  away,  then 
looks  hack  and  asks  gently]  I  didn't  hurt  you,  did  I  ? 


ACT  III     THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    261 

LoPAKHiN.  No,  not  at  all.  There'll  be  an  enormous 
bump,  that's  all. 

Voices  from  the  Drawing-room.  Lopakhin's  returned  ! 
Ermolai  Alexeyevitch ! 

PisCHiN.  Now  we'll  see  what  there  is  to  see  and  hear 
what  there  is  to  hear.  .  .  .  [Kisses  Lopakhin]  You  smell 
of  cognac,  my  dear,  my  soul.  And  we're  all  having  a  good 
time. 

Enter  LuBOV  Andreyevna. 

LuBOV.  Is  that  you,  Ermolai  Alexeyevitch  ?  Why  were 
you  so  long  ?     Where's  Leonid  ? 

LoPAKmN.  Leonid  Andreyevitch  came  back  with  me, 
he's  coming.  .  .  . 

LuBov.  [Excited]  Well,  what  ?     Is  it  sold  ?     Tell  me  ? 

Lopakhin.  [Confused,  afraid  to  show  his  pleasure]  The 
sale  ended  up  at  four  o'clock.  .  .  .  We  missed  the  train, 
and  had  to  wait  till  half-past  nine.  [Sighs  heavily]  Ooh  ! 
My  head's  going  round  a  little. 

Enter  Gaev  ;    in  his  right  hand  he  carries  things  he 
has  bought,  with  his  left  he  wipes  away  his  tears. 

Lubov.  Leon,  what's  happened  ?  Leon,  well  ?  [Im- 
patienily,  in  tears]  Quick,  for  the  love  of  God.  .  .  . 

Gaev.  [Says  nothing  to  her,  only  waves  his  hand ;  to 
FiERS,  weeping]  Here,  take  this.  .  .  .  Here  are  anchovies, 
herrings  from  Kertch.  .  .  .  I've  had  no  food  to-day.  .  .  . 
I  have  had  a  time  !  [The  door  from  the  billiard-room  is  open  ; 
the  clicking  of  the  balls  is  heard,  and  Yasha's  voice,  "  Seven, 
eighteen  !  "  Gaev's  expression  changes,  he  cries  no  more] 
I'm  awfully  tired.    Let  me  change  my  clothes,  Fiers. 

Goes   out   through   the   drawing-room ;    Fiers   aftei 
him. 

PisCHiN.  What  happened  ?     Come  on,  tell  us  ! 

LuBOV.  Is  the  cherry  orchard  sold  ? 


262    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    act  in 

LoPAKiiiN.  It  is  sold. 
LuBOV.  Who  bought  it  ? 
LoPAKHiN.  I  bought  it. 

LuBOV  Andreyevna  is  overwhelmed ;  she  would  fall 
if  she  were  not  standing  by  an  armchair  and  a 
table.  Varya  takes  her  keys  off  her  belt,  throws 
them,  on  the  floor,  into  the  middle  of  the  room  and 
goes  out. 
Lopakhin.  I  bought  it !  Wait,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
please,  my  head's  going  round,  I  can't  talk.  .  .  .  [Laugh] 
When  we  got  to  the  sale,  Deriganov  was  there  already. 
Leonid  Andreyevitch  had  only  fifteen  thousand  roubles,  and 
Deriganov  offered  thirty  thousand  on  top  of  the  mortgage 
to  begin  with.  I  saw  how  matters  were,  so  I  grabbed  hold 
of  him  and  bid  forty.  He  went  up  to  forty-five,  I  offered 
fifty-five.  That  means  he  went  up  by  fives  and  I  went  up 
by  tens.  .  .  .  Well,  it  came  to  an  end.  I  bid  ninety  more 
than  the  mortgage  ;  and  it  stayed  with  me.  The  cherry 
orchard  is  mine  now,  mine  !  [Roars  withlaughter]  My  God, 
my  God,  the  cherry  orchard's  mine  !  Tell  me  I'm  drunk, 
or  mad,  or  dreaming.  .  .  .  [Stamps  his  feet]  Don't  laugh 
at  me  !  If  my  father  and  grandfather  rose  from  their 
graves  and  looked  at  the  whole  affair,  and  saw  how  their 
Ermolai,  their  beaten  and  uneducated  Ermolai,  who  used 
to  run  barefoot  in  the  winter,  how  that  very  Ermolai  has 
bought  an  estate,  which  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the 
world  !  I've  bought  the  estate  where  my  grandfather  and 
my  father  were  slaves,  where  they  weren't  even  allowed  into 
the  kitchen.  I'm  asleep,  it's  only  a  dream,  an  illusion.  .  .  . 
It's  the  fruit  of  imagination,  wrapped  in  the  fog  of  the  un- 
known. .  •  .  [Picks  up  the  keys,  nicely  smiling]  She  threw 
down  the  keys,  she  wanted  to  show  she  was  no  longer 


ACTiii     THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD     263 

mistress  here.  .  .  .  [Jingles  keys]  Well,  it's  all  one! 
[Hears  the  band  timing  up]  Eh,  musicians,  play,  I  want  to 
hear  you  !  Come  and  look  at  Ermolai  Lopakhin  laying  his 
axe  to  the  cherry  orchard,  come  and  look  at  the  trees  falling  ! 
We'll  build  villas  here,  and  our  grandsons  and  great- 
grandsons  will  see  a  new  life  here.  .  .  .  Play  on,  music  ! 
[The  band  flays.  Lubov  Andreyevna  sinks  into  a  chair 
and  weeps  bitterly.  Ьоракшн  continues  reproachfully] 
Why  then,  why  didn't  you  take  my  advice  1  My  poor,  dear 
woman,  you  can't  go  back  now.  [PFeeps]  Oh,  if  only  the 
whole  thing  was  done  with,  if  only  our  uneven,  unhappy 
life  were  changed  ! 

PiscHiN.  [Takes  his  arm  ;  in  an  undertone]  She's  crying. 
Let's  go  into  the  drawing-room  and  leave  her  by  herself  .  .  . 
come  on.  .  .  .  [Takes  his  arm  and  leads  him  out. 

ЬоРАКШК.  What's  that  ?  Bandsmen,  play  nicely  !  Go 
on,  do  just  as  I  want  you  to  !  [Ironically]  The  new  owner, 
the  owner  of  the  cherry  orchard  is  coming  !  [He  accidentally 
knocks  up  against  a  little  table  and  nearly  upsets  the  candelabra] 
I  can  pay  for  everything  now  !  [Exit  with  PiscmN. 

In  the  reception-room  and  the  drawing-room  nobody  re- 
mains except  Lubov  Andreyevna,  who  sits  huddled 
up  and  weeping  bitterly.    The  band  plays  softly. 
Anya  and  Trofimov  come  in  quickly.  Anya  goes 
up  to  her  mother  and  goes  on  her  knees  in  front  of 
her.    Trofimov  stands  at  the  drawing-room  en- 
trance. 
Anya.  Mother !    mother,   are   you   crying  ?     My   dear, 
kind,   good   mother,   my   beautiful   mother,  I  love  you  ! 
Bless  you  !     The  cherry  orchard  is  sold,  we've  got  it  no 
longer,  it's  tnie,  true,  but  don't  cry  mother,  you've  still  got 
your  life  before  you,  you've  still  your  beautiful  pure  soul. . . . 


iJG4    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    лет  iii 

Come  with  me,  come,  dear,  away  from  here,  come  !  We'll 
plant  a  new  garden,  finer  than  this,  and  you'll  see  it,  and 
you'll  understand,  and  deep  joy,  gentle  joy  will  sink  into 
your  soul,  like  the  evening  sun,  and  you'll  smile,  mother  ! 
Come,  dear,  let's  go  1 

Curtain. 


ACT  TV 

The  stage  is  set  as  for  Act  I.  There  are  no  curtains  on  the 
windows,  no  pictures  ;  only  a  few  pieces  of  furniture  are 
left ;  they  are  piled  up  in  a  corner  as  if  for  sale.  The 
emptiness  is  felt.  By  tlie  door  that  leads  out  of  the  house 
and  at  the  back  of  the  stage,  portmanteaux  and  travelling 
paraphernalia  are  piled  up.  The  door  on  the  left  is  open  ; 
the  voices  of  Varya  and  Anya  can  be  heard  through  it. 
LoPAKHiN  stands  and  waits.  Yasha  holds  a  trey  with 
little  tumbhrs  of  champagne.  Outside,  Epikhcdov  is 
tying  up  a  box.  Voices  are  heard  behind  the  stage.  The 
peasants  have  come  to  say  good-bye.  The  voice  of  Gaev 
is  heard  :  "  Thank  you,  brothers,  thank  you." 

Yasha.  The  common  people  have  come  to  say  good-bye. 
I  am  of  the  opinion,  Ermolai  Alexeyevitch,  that  they're 
good  people,  but  they  don't  understand  very  much. 

The  voices  die  away.    Lubov  Andreyevna  ajid  Gaev 
enter.    She  is  not  crying  but  is  pale,  and  her  face 
trembles  ;  she  can  hardly  speak. 
Gaev.  You  gave  them  your  purse,  Luba.     You  can't  go 
on  like  that,  you  can't ! 
Lubov.  I  couldn't  help  myself,  I  couldn't !  [They  go  out. 
LoPAKmN.  {In  the  doorway,  looking  after  them]  Please, 
I  ask  you  most  humbly  !     Just  a  little  glass  to  say  good- 
bye.    I  didn't  remember  to  bring  any  from  town  and  I 
only  found  one  bottle  at  the  station.     Please,  do  !  [Pause] 
Won't  you  really  have  any  ?  [Goes  away  from  the  door]  If  I 

265 


2C0     THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    activ 

only  knew — I  wouldn't  have  bought  any.  Well,  I  shan't 
drink  any  either.  [Yasha  carefully  puts  the  tray  on  a  с1шгг] 
You  have  a  drink,  Yasha,  at  any  rate. 

Yasha.  To  those  departing  !  And  good  luck  to  those 
who  stay  behind  !  [Drinks]  I  can  assure  you  that  this  isn't 
real  champagne. 

LoPAKHiN.  Eight  roubles  a  bottle.  [Pause]  It's  devilish 
cold  here. 

Yasha.  There  are  no  fires  to-day,  we're  going  away. 

[Laughs. 

ЬоРАКШК.  What's  the  matter  with  you  ? 

Yasha.  I'm  just  pleased. 

LoPAKHiN.  It's  October  outside,  but  it's  as  sunny  and 
as  quiet  as  if  it  were  summer.  Good  for  building.  [Looking 
at  his  watch  and  speaking  through  the  door]  Ladies  and 
gentlemen,  please  remember  that  it's  only  forty-seven 
minutes  till  the  train  goes  !  You  must  go  ofi  to  the  station 
in  twenty  minutes.     Hurry  up. 

Trofimov,  in  an  overcoat,  comes  in  from  the  grounds. 

Trofimov.  I  think  it's  time  we  went.  The  carriages 
are  waiting.  Where  the  devil  are  my  goloshes  ?  They're 
lost.  [Through  the  door]  Anya,  I  can't  find  my  goloshes  ! 
I  can't ! 

LoPAKHiN.  I've  got  to  go  to  Kharkov.  I'm  going  in  the 
same  train  as  you.  I'm  going  to  spend  the  whole  winter 
in  Kharkov.  I've  been  hanging  about  with  you  people, 
going  rusty  without  work.  I  can't  live  without  working. 
I  must  have  something  to  do  with  my  hands  ;  they  hang 
about  as  if  they  weren't  mine  at  all. 

Trofimov.  We'll  go  away  now  and  then  you'll  start 
again  on  your  useful  labours. 

LoPAKHiN.  Have  a  glass. 

Trofimov.  I  won't. 


ACTiv    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    267 

LoPAKHiN.  So  you're  ofi  to  Moscow  now  ? 

Trofimov.  Yes.  I'll  see  them  into  town  and  to-morrow 
I'm  off  to  Moscow. 

LoPAKHiN.  Yes.  ...  I  expect  the  professors  don't 
lecture  nowadays  ;   they're  waiting  till  you  turn  up  ! 

Trofimov.  That's  not  your  business. 

LoPAKHiN.  How  many  years  have  you  been  going  to  the 
university  ? 

Trofimov.  Think  of  something  fresh.  This  is  old  and 
flat.  [Looking  for  his  goloshes]  You  know,  we  may  not  meet 
each  other  again,  so  just  let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice 
on  parting  :  "  Don't  wave  your  hands  about !  Get  rid  of 
that  habit  of  waving  them  about.  And  then,  building 
viUas  and  reckoning  on  their  residents  becoming  freeholders 
in  time — that's  the  same  thing  ;  it's  all  a  matter  of  waving 
your  hands  about.  .  .  .  Whether  I  want  to  or  not,  you 
know,  I  like  you.  You've  thin,  delicate  fingers,  like  those 
of  an  artist,  and  you've  a  thin,  delicate  soul.  .  .  ." 

LoPAKHiN.  [Embraces  him]  Good-bye,  dear  fellow.  Thanks 
for  all  you've  said.  If  you  want  any,  take  some  money 
from  me  for  the  journey. 

Trofimov.  Why  should  I  ?     I  don't  want  it. 

LoPAKHiN.  But  you've  nothing  ! 

Trofimov.  Yes,  I  have,  thank  you ;  I've  got  some  for 
a  translation.  Here  it  is  in  my  pocket.  [Nervously]  But 
I  can't  find  my  goloshes  ! 

Varya.  [From  the  other  room]  Take  your  rubbish  away  ! 
[Throws  a  fair  of  rubber  goloshes  on  to  the  stage. 

Trofimov.  Why  are  you  angry,  Varya  ?  Hm  !  These 
aren't  my  goloshes  ! 

Lopakhin.  In  the  spring  I  sowed  three  thousand  acres 
of  poppies,  and  now  I've  made  forty  thousand  roubles 
net  profit.     And  when  my  poppies  were  in  flower,  what  a 


2G8    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD     act  iv 

picture  it  was  !  So  I,  аз  I  was  saying,  made  forty  thousand 
roubles,  and  I  mean  I'd  like  to  lend  you  some,  because  I 
can  afford  it.  Why  turn  up  your  nose  at  it  ?  I'm  just  a 
simple  peasant.  .  .  . 

Trofimov.  Your  father  was  a  peasant,  mine  was  a 
chemist,  and  that  means  absolutely  nothing.  [Lopakhin 
takes  out  his  pocJcet-book]  No,  no.  .  .  .  Even  if  you  gave  me 
twenty  thousand  I  should  refuse.  I'm  a  free  man.  And 
everything  that  all  you  people,  rich  and  poor,  value  so 
highly  and  so  dearly  hasn't  the  least  influence  over  me  ; 
it's  like  a  flock  of  down  in  the  wind.  I  can  do  without  you, 
I  can  pass  you  by.  I'm  strong  and  proud.  Mankind  goes 
on  to  the  highest  truths  and  to  the  highest  happiness 
such  as  is  only  possible  on  earth,  and  I  go  in  the  front 
ranks ! 

LoPAKmN.  Will  you  get  there  ? 

Trofimov.  I  will.  [Pause]  I'll  get  there  and  show  others 
the  way.     [Axes  cutting  the  trees  are  heard  in  the  distance. 

Lopakhin.  Well,  good-bye,  old  man.  It's  time  to  go. 
Here  we  stand  pulling  one  another's  noses,  but  life  goes 
its  own  way  all  the  time.  When  I  work  for  a  long  time, 
and  I  don't  get  tired,  then  I  think  more  easily,  and  I  think 
I  get  to  understand  why  I  exist.  And  there  are  so  many 
people  in  Russia,  brother,  who  live  for  nothing  at  all. 
Still,  work  goes  on  without  that.  Leonid  Andreyevitch, 
they  say,  has  accepted  a  post  in  a  bank  ;  he  will  get  sixty 
thousand  roubles  a  year.  .  .  .  But  he  won't  stand  it ; 
he's  very  lazy. 

Anya.  [At  the  door]  Mother  asks  if  you  will  stop  them 
cutting  down  the  orchard  until  she  has  gone  away. 

Trofimov.  Yes,  really,  you  ought  to  have  enough  tact 
not  to  do  that.  [Exit. 

LoPAKmN.  All  right,  all  right  .  .  .  yes,  he's  right.  [Exit 


ACTiv     THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    269 

Anya.  Has  Fiers  been  sent  to  the  hospital  ? 

Yasha.  I  gave  the  order  this  morning.  I  suppose  they've 
sent  him. 

Anya.  [To  Epikhodov,  who  crosses  the  room]  Simeon 
Panteleyevitch,  please  make  inquiries  if  Fiers  has  been 
sent  to  the  hospital. 

Yasha.  [Offended]  I  told  Egor  this  morning.  What's 
the  use  of  asking  ten  times  ! 

Epikhodov.  The  aged  Fiers,  in  my  conclusive  opinion, 
isn't  worth  mending  ;  his  forefathers  had  better  have  him. 
I  only  envy  him.  [Puts  a  trunk  on  a  hat-box  and  squashes 
it]  Well,  of  course.     I  thought  so  !  [Exit. 

Yasha.  [Grinning]  Two-and-twenty  troubles. 

Varya.  [Behind  the  door]  Has  Fiers  been  taken  away 
to  the  hospital  ? 

Anya.  Yes. 

Varya.  Why  didn't  they  take  the  letter  to  the  doctor  ? 

Anya.  It'll  have  to  be  sent  after  him.  [Exit. 

Varya.  [In  the  next  room]  Where's  Yasha  ?  Tell  him 
his  mother's  come  and  wants  to  say  good-bye  to  him. 

Yasha.  [Waving  his  hand]  She'll  make  me  lose  all 
patience ! 

DuNYASHA  has  meanwhile  been  bustling  round  the 
luggage ;  now  that  Yasha  is  left  alone,  she  goes 
up  to  him. 

DuNYASHA.  If  you  Only  looked  at  me  once,  Yasha. 
You're  going  away,  leaving  me  behind.  .  .  . 

[Weeps  and  hugs  him  round  the  neck. 

Yasha.  What's  the  use  of  crying  ?  [Drinks  champagne] 
In  six  days  I'll  be  again  in  Paris.  To-morrow  we  get  into 
the  express  and  off  we  go.  I  can  hardly  believe  it.  Vive 
la  France  !  It  doesn't  suit  me  here,  I  can't  live  here  .  .  . 
it's  no  good.    Well,  I've  seen  the  uncivilized  world  ;   I 


270     THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD     activ 

have  had  enough  of  it.  [Drinks  champagne]  What  do  you 
want  to  cry  for  ?  You  behave  yourself  properly,  and  then 
you  won't  cry. 

DuNYASHA.  Somebody's  coming. 

He  bustles  around  the  luggage,  singing  softly.    Enter 
LuBOV  Andre  YEVNA,  Gaev,  Anya,  awtZ  Ciiarlotta 

IVANOVNA. 

Gaev.  We'd  better  be  off.  There's  no  time  left.  [Looks 
at  Yasha]  Somebody  smells  of  herring  ! 

LuBOV.  We  needn't  get  into  our  carriages  for  ten  minutes. 
.  .  .  [Looks  round  the  room]  Good-bye,  dear  house,  old 
grandfather.  The  winter  will  go,  the  spring  will  come,  and 
then  you'll  exist  no  more,  you'll  be  pulled  down.  How 
much  these  walls  have  seen !  [Passionately  kisses  her 
daughter]  My  treasure,  you're  radiant,  your  eyes  flash  like 
two  jewels  !     Are  you  happy  ?     Very  ? 

Anya.  Very  !     A  new  life  is  beginning,  mother  ! 

Gaev.  [Gaily]  Yes,  really,  everything's  all  right  now. 
Before  the  cherry  orchard  was  sold  we  all  were  excited  and 
we  suffered,  and  then,  when  the  question  was  solved  once 
and  for  all,  we  all  calmed  down,  and  even  became  cheerful. 
I'm  a  bank  official  now,  and  a  financier  .  .  .  red  in  the 
middle ;  and  you,  Luba,  for  some  reason  or  other,  look 
better,  there's  no  doubt  about  it. 

LuBOV.  Yes.  My  nerves  are  better,  it's  true.  [She  puts 
on  her  coat  and  ?iat]  I  sleep  well.  Take  my  luggage  out, 
Yasha.  It's  time.  [To  Anya]  My  little  girl,  we'll  soon  see 
each  other  again.  .  .  .  I'm  off  to  Paris.  I'll  live  there 
on  the  money  your  grandmother  from  Yaroslav  sent  along 
to  buy  the  estate — bless  her  ! — though  it  won't  last  long. 

Anya.  You'll  come  back  soon,  soon,  mother,  won't  you  ? 
I'll  get  ready,  and  pass  the  exam,  at  the  Higher  School,  and 
then  I'll  work  and  help  you.     We'll  read  all  sorts  of  books 


ACTiv     THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD     2T1 

to  one  another,  won't  we  ?  [Kisses  her  mother's  hands] 
We'll  read  in  the  autumn  evenings  ;  we'll  read  many  books, 
and  a  beautiful  new  world  will  open  up  before  us.  .  .  . 
[Thoughtfully]  You'll  come,  mother.  .  .  . 
LuBOV.  I'll  come,  my  darling.  [Embraces  her. 

Enter  LoPAKmN.  Charlotta  is  singing  to  herself. 
Gaev.  Charlotta  is  happy  ;  she  sings  ! 
Charlotta.  [TaJces  a  bundle,  looking  like  a  wrapped-up 
baby]  My  little  baby,  bye-bye.  [The  baby  seems  to  answer, 
"  Oua,  oua  !  "]  Hush,  my  nice  Httle  boy.  ["  Oua  !  Qua  !  "] 
I'm  so  sorry  for  you  !  [Throws  the  bundle  bach]  So  please 
find  me  a  new  place.     I  can't  go  on  like  this. 

LoPAKHiN.  We'll  find  one,  Charlotta  Ivanovna,  don't 
you  be  afraid. 

Gaev.  Everybody's  leaving  us.    Varya's  going  away.  .  . 
we've  suddenly  become  unnecessary. 

Charlotta.  I've  nowhere  to  live  in  town.    I  must  go 
away.  [Hums]  Never  mind. 
Enter  PiscHiN. 
LoPAKHiN.  Nature's  marvel ! 
PisCHiN.  [Puffing]  Oh,  let  me  get  my  breath  back. 
I'm  fagged  out.  .  .  .  My  most  honoured,  give  me  some 
water.  .  .  . 

Gaev.  Come  for  money,  what  ?  I'm  your  humble  ser- 
vant, and  I'm  going  out  of  the  way  of  temptation.  [Exit. 
PisCHiN.  I  haven't  been  here  for  ever  so  long  .  .  .  dear 
madam.  [To  Lopakhin]  You  here  ?  Glad  to  see  you  .  .  . 
man  of  immense  brain  .  .  .  take  this  .  .  .  take  it.  .  .  . 
[Gives  Lopakhin  money]  Four  hundred  roubles.  .  .  . 
That  leaves  840.  .  .  . 

Lopakhin.  [Shrugs   his  shoulders   in  surprise]  As   if  I 
were  dreaming.     Where  did  you  get  this  from  1 
PiscHiN.  Stop  .  .  .  it's   hot.  ...  A   most   unexpected 


272    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD      act  iv 

thing  happened.  Some  Englishmen  came  along  and  found 
some  white  clay  on  my  land.  .  .  .  [Го  Lubov  Andre yevna] 
And  here's  four  hundred  for  you  .  .  .  beautiful  lady.  .  .  . 
[Gives  her  mo7iey]  Give  you  the  rest  later.  .  .  .  [Drinks 
water]  Just  now  a  young  man  in  the  train  was  saying  that 
some  great  philosopher  advisee  us  all  to  jump  off  roofs. 
"  Jump  !  "  he  says,  and  that's  all.  [AstonisJied]  To  think 
of  that,  now  !     More  water  ! 

LoPAKHiN.  Who  were  these  Englishmen  ? 

PiscHiN.  I've  leased  off  the  land  with  the  clay  to  them 
for  twenty-four  years.  .  .  .  Now,  excuse  me,  I've  no  time. 
...  I  must  run  off.  ...  I  must  go  to  Znoikov  and  to 
Kardamonov  ...  I  owe  them  aU  money.  .  .  .  [Drinks] 
Good-bye.     I'll  come  in  on  Thursday. 

LuBOV.  We're  just  off  to  town,  and  to-morrow  I  go 
abroad. 

PiscHiN.  [Agitated]  What  ?  Why  to  town  ?  I  see  fur- 
niture .  .  .  trunks.  .  .  .  Well,  never  mind.  [Cryiyuj]  Never 
mind.  These  Englishmen  are  men  of  immense  intellect.  . . . 
Never  mind.  ...  Be  happy.  .  .  .  God  will  help  you.  .  .  . 
Never  mind.  .  .  .  Everything  in  this  world  comes  to  an 
end.  .  .  .  [Kisses  Lubov  Andreyevna's  hand]  And  if  you 
should  happen  to  hear  that  my  end  has  come,  just  remember 
this  old  .  .  .  horse  and  say  :  "  There  was  one  such  and 
such  a  Simeonov-Pischin,  God  bless  his  soul.  .  .  ."  Won- 
derful weather  .  .  .  yes.  .  .  .  [Exit  deeply  moved,  but 
returns  at  once  and  says  in  the  door]  Dashenka  sent  her 
love !  [Exit. 

LuBOV.  Now  we  can  go.  I've  two  anxieties,  though. 
The  first  is  poor  Fiers.  [Looks  at  her  watch]  We've  still  five 
minutes.  .  .  . 

Anya.  Mother,  Fiers  has  already  been  sent  to  the 
bospital.     Yasha  sent  him  off  this  morning. 


ACT  IV     THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    273 

LuBOV.  The  second  is  Varya.  She's  used  to  getting  up 
early  and  to  work,  and  now  she's  no  work  to  do  she's  like 
a  fish  out  of  water.  She's  grown  thin  and  pale,  and  she 
cries,  poor  thing.  .  .  .  [Pause]  You  know  very  well, 
Ermolai  Alexeyevitch,  that  I  used  to  hope  to  marry  her  to 
you,  and  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  marry  somebody  ? 
[Whispers  to  Anya,  who  nods  to  Charlotta,  and  they  both 
go  out]  She  loves  you,  she's  your  sort,  and  I  don't  under- 
stand, I  really  don't,  why  you  seem  to  be  keeping  away 
from  each  other.     I  don't  understand  ! 

LoPAKHiN.  To  teU  the  truth,  I  don't  understand  it 
myself.  It's  all  so  strange.  ...  If  there's  still  time,  I'll 
be  ready  at  once.  .  .  .  Let's  get  it  over,  once  and  for  all ; 
I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could  ever  propose  to  her  without 
you. 

LuBOV.  Excellent.  It'll  only  take  a  minute.  I'U  call 
her. 

LoPAKfflN.  The  champagne's  very  appropriate.  [Loohing 
at  the  tumblers]  They're  empty,  somebody's  already  drunk 
them.  [Yasha  coughs]  I  call  that  licking  it  up.  .  .  . 

LuBOV.  [Ani  tiated]  Excellent.  We'll  go  out.  Yasha, 
allez.  I'll  call  her  in.  .  .  .  [At  the  door]  Varya,  leave  that 
and  come  here.     Come  !  [Exit  with  Yasha. 

LoPAKHiN.  [Looks  at  his  watch]  Yes.  .  .  .  [Pause. 

There  is  a  restrained  laugh  behind  the  door,  a  whisper, 
then  Varya  comes  in. 

Varya.  [Looking  at  the  luggage  in  silence]  I  can't  seem  to 
find  it.  .  .  . 

LoPAKHiN.  What  are  you  looking  for  ? 

Varya.  I  packed  it  myself  and  I  don't  remember.  [Pause. 

LoPAKniN.  Where  are  you  going  to  now,  Barbara 
Mihailovna  1 

Varya.  I  ?     To  the  Raguhns.  .  .  .  I've  got  an  agree- 

8 


274    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD     activ 

ment  to  go  and  look  after  their  house  ...  as  housekeeper 
or  something. 

LoPAKHiN.  Is  that  at  Yashnevo  ?  It's  about  fifty  miles. 
[Pause]  So  life  in  this  house  is  finished  now.  .  .  . 

Varya.  [Looking  at  the  luggage]  Where  is  it  ?  .  .  . 
perhaps  I've  put  it  away  in  the  trunk.  .  .  .  Yes,  there'll 
be  no  more  life  in  this  house.  .  .  . 

LoPAKHiN.  And  I'm  ой  to  Kharkov  at  once  ...  by 
this  train.  I've  a  lot  of  business  on  hand.  I'm  leaving 
Epikhodov  here  .  .  .  I've  taken  him  on. 

Varya.  Well,  well ! 

LoPAKHiN.  Last  year  at  this  time  the  snow  was 
already  falling,  if  you  remember,  and  now  it's  nice  and 
sunny.  Only  it's  rather  cold.  .  .  .  There's  three  degrees 
of  frost. 

Varya.  I  didn't  look.  [Pause]  And  our  thermometer's 
broken.  .  .  .  [Pause. 

Voice  at  the  Door.  Ermolai  Alexeyevitch  1 

LoPAKHiN.  [As  if  he  has  long  been  waiting  to  be  called] 

This  minute.  [Exit  quickly. 

Varya,  sitting  on  the  floor,  puts  her  face  on  a  bundle 

of  clothes    and   weeps    gently.     The    door    opens. 

LuBOV  Andreyevna  enters  carefully. 

LuBOV.  Well  ?  [Pause]  We  must  go. 

Varya.  [Not  crying  now,  wipes  her  eyes]  Yes,  it's  quite 
time,  little  mother.  I'll  get  to  the  Ragulins  to-day,  if  I 
don't  miss  the  train.  .  .  . 

LuBOV.  [At  the  door]  Anya,  put  on  your  things.  [Enter 
Anya,  then  Gaev,  Charlotta  Ivanovna.  Gaev  wears  a 
warm  overcoat  with  a  cape.  A  servant  and  drivers  come  in. 
Epikhodov  bustles  around  the  luggage]  Now  we  can  go 
away. 

Anya.  [Joyfully]  Away  1 


ACT  IV    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    275 

Gaev.  My  friends,  my  dear  friends  !  Can  I  be  silent, 
in  leaving  this  house  for  evermore  ? — can  I  restrain  myself, 
in  saying  farewell,  from  expressing  those  feelings  which 
now  fill  my  whole  being  .  .  .  ? 

Anya.  [Imploringly]  Uncle ! 

Varya.  Uncle,  you  shouldn't ! 

Gaev.  [Stupidly]  Double  the  red  into  the  middle.  .  .  . 
I'll  be  quiet. 

Enter  Trofimov,  then  LoPAKmN. 

Trofimov.  Well,  it's  time  to  be  ой. 

LoPAKHiN.  Epikhodov,  my  coat ! 

LuBOV.  I'll  sit  here  one  more  minute.  It's  as  if  I'd 
never  really  noticed  what  the  walls  and  ceilings  of  this 
house  were  like,  and  now  I  look  at  them  greedily,  with 
such  tender  love.  .  .  . 

Gaev.  I  remember,  when  I  was  six  years  old,  on  Trinity 
Sunday,  I  sat  at  this  window  and  looked  and  saw  my  father 
going  to  church.  .  .  . 

LuBOV.  Have  all  the  things  been  taken  away  ? 

LoPAKHiN.  Yes,  all,  I  thinlc.  [To  Epikhodov,  putting 
on  his  coat]  You  see  that  everything's  quite  straight, 
Epikhodov. 

Epikhodov.  [Hoarsely]  You  may  depend  upon  me, 
Ermolai  Alexeyevitch  1 

LoPAKHiN.  What's  the  matter  with  your  voice  ? 

Epikhodov.  I  swallowed  something  just  now  ;  I  was 
having  a  drink  of  water. 

Yasha.  [Suspiciously]  What  manners.  .  .  . 

LuBOV.  We  go  away,  and  not  a  soul  remains  behind 

LoPAKHiN.  Till  the  spring. 

Varya.  [Drags  an  umbrella  out  of  a  bundle,  and  Sc^ms 
to  be  waving  it  about.  Lopakhin  appears  to  be  frightened] 
What  are  you  doing  ?  .  .  .  I  never  thought  .  .  . 


27G     THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    act  iv 

Trofimov.  Come  along,  let's  take  our  seats  .  .  .  it's 
time  !     The  train  will  be  in  directly. 

Vary  A.  Peter,  here  they  are,  your  goloshes,  by  that 
trunk.  [In  tears]  And  how  old  and  dirty  they  are.  .  .  . 

Trofimov.  [Pulling  them  on]  Come  on  ! 

Gaev.  [Deeply  moved,  nearly  crying]  The  train  .  .  .  the 
station.  .  .  .  Cross  in  the  middle,  a  white  double  in  the 
corner.  .  .  . 

LuBOv.  Let's  go ! 

Lopakhtn.  Are  you  all  here  ?  There's  nobody  else  ? 
[Locks  the  side-door  on  the  left]  There's  a  lot  of  things  in 
there.    I  must  lock  them  up.     Come  ! 

Anya.  Good-bye,  home!     Good-bye,  old  life! 

Trofimov.  Welcome,  new  life.  [Exit  mth  Anya. 

Varya  looks  round  the  room  and  goes  out  slowly. 

Yasha  and  Charlotta,  with  her  little  dog,  go  out. 

LoPAKHiN.  Till  the  spring,  then  !    Come  on  .  .  .  till  we 

meet  again  !  [Exit. 

LuBOV  Andreyevna  and  Gaev  are  left  alone.    They 

might  almost  have  been  waiting  for  that.    They  fall 

into  each  other's  arms  and  sob  restrainedly  and 

quietly,  fearing  that  somebody  might  hear  them. 

Gaev.  [In  despair]  My  sister,  my  sister.  ,  .  . 

LuBOV.  My  dear,  my  gentle,  beautiful  orchard !  My 
life,  my  youth,  my  happiness,  good-bye  !     Good-bye  ! 

Anya's  Voice.  [Gaily]  Mother  ! 

Trofimov's  Voice.  [Gaily,  excited]  Coo-ee ! 

LuBOV.  To  look  at  the  walls  and  the  windows  for  the 
last  time.  .  .  .  My  dead  mother  used  to  like  to  walk  about 
this  room.  .  .  . 

Gaev.  My  sister,  my  sister  ! 

Anya's  Voice.  Mother  ! 

Trofimov's  Voice.  Coo-ee ! 


ACTiv    THE    CHERRY    ORCHARD    277 

LuBOV.  We're  coming  !  {They  go  out. 

The  stage  is  empty.    The  sound  of  keys  being  turned 

in  the  locks  is  heard,  and  then   the  noise  of  the 

carriages  going  away.    It  is  quiet.    Then  the  sound 

of  an  axe  against  the  trees  is  heard  in  the  silence 

sadly  and  by  itself.    Steps  are  heard.    Fiers  comes 

in  from  the  door  on  the  right.     He  is  dressed  as  usual, 

in  a  short  jacket  and  white  waistcoat ;   slippers  on 

his  feet.    He  is  ilL    He  goes  to  the  door  and  tries 

the  handle. 

Fiers.  It's  locked.     They've  gone  away.  [Sits  on  a  sofa] 

They've  forgotten  about   me.  .  .  .  Never   mind,   I'll  sit 

here.  .  .  .  And  Leonid  Andreyevitch  will  have  gone  in  a 

light  overcoat  instead  of  putting  on  his  fur  coat.  .  .  . 

[Sighs    anxiously]  I    didn't    see.  .  .  .  Oh,    these    young 

people !  [Mumbles   something    that    cannot    be   understood] 

Life's  gone  on  as  if  I'd  never  lived.  [Lying  down]  I'll  lie 

down.  .  .  .  You've  no  strength  left  in  you,  nothing  left 

at  all.  .  .  .Oh,  you  .  .  .  bungler  ! 

He  lies  without  moving.  The  distant  sound  is  heard, 
as  if  from  the  sky,  of  a  breaking  string,  dying  away 
sadly.  Silence  follows  it,  and  only  the  sound  is 
heard,  some  way  away  in  the  orchard,  of  the  axe 
falling  on  the  trees. 

Curtain. 


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